The Perfect Moment
by Noil
Summary: Dumbledore's voice was incredulous: “You think that to experience love in its purest form, to feel the strongest desire for another being than one can possibly have… is weakness?” You think it insignificant...? Please read and review.
1. 1

Disclaimer: The author of this fanfiction is in no way connected with or endorsed by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, Bloomsbury Publishing or Warner Bros and does not wish to make any sort of profit from this fanfiction. Ownership to characters in the Harry Potter books is neither claimed nor implied. All original content and material belongs to the author of this fanfiction and so therefore any reproduction of this text without the author's consent is prohibited.

**The Perfect Moment**

Chapter 1

"Have you ever experienced a… perfect moment?"

Ah… the implications attached with that question. The heartache, the memory… the anguish.

"A perfect moment?" he asked.

"Of course. A moment when time stops. A moment that stretches into all of eternity… a moment that pervades everything until it is almost a separate universe."

"I… do not understand…"

"Have you never experienced a moment… a perfect moment… where everything was so beautiful, so wonderfully radiant that it was almost as if you could live in that one perfect moment for all of eternity…? Where nothing else mattered but that one moment?" There was apprehension in the speaker's voice as Snape struggled to find something that could match with the transcendental definition that the former was describing.

"I… I…"

"Indeed, Severus, there are very few people who can lay claim to such an experience. I myself have experienced this moment several times… but then…" with an apologetic smile, Dumbledore continued, "… taking into account my not inconsiderable talent and ability that should not come as too much of a surprise."

Snape remained silent as he tried desperately to pinpoint a memory. Something he had chosen to all but forget… no mean feat since the events in question had occurred little more than a year ago. A year...? A lifetime more like. There was something lurking just beneath the surface of his recognition that was of the utmost importance; that he must tell Dumbledore… his instincts told him it was critical the great man knew…

Dumbledore in the meantime continued his speech, in a tranquil voice, his eyes containing a faraway expression. "Those who can lay claim to this experience are blessed. After all, to have such a singular effect on the great mechanisms of time and space… it is not something that everybody can do… Indeed, it is said that those who have experienced this are destined to achieve great things… maybe terrible, maybe amazing but thunderously great…"

"Thunderously…? Thunder… thunderbolt…" Snape whispered in a cracked voice as the forgotten memory finally surged through into his recognition.

"Ah… ahhh…" there was a hidden surprise in Dumbledore's quiet voice. "I did not know… I did not expect…"

o.o.o

Snape awoke with a start. He had almost dozed off. The darkness stretched all around him, but he was content. The huge cauldron in front of him bubbled and rumbled like a large, slumbering beast, and over its surface large drops – the colour of liquid gold – leapt like dolphins. There were, yet, a few hours to go before the potion was finally ready and so, hidden from the world by the inky black blanket of the night, Snape had finally sat down to employ that one faculty which had, for so long, lain dormant and latent: he could think. It appeared however, that he had been more exhausted than he had thought. And amid the deep, dark recesses of his mind, that one question had arisen; unbidden, unwelcome and carrying with it the pain of a lifetime.

Sitting up, more alert, he again returned to the memory he had been reliving.

o.o.o

Snape shook his head… almost as if in shame. Dumbledore dwelt with pity on the broken man in front of him for a moment, and then said: "You are not proud of this?"

He shook his head again. There was pain etched in every harsh line in his face.

"Why?"

"Weak…"

"You think that to experience love in its purest form, to feel the strongest desire for another being than one can possibly have… is weakness?" Snape was silent. The pain had surged through him like poison.

"Severus… Severus, look at me." For the first time that evening, a tender, almost fatherly note came into Dumbledore's voice. Snape looked up. "How much you have suffered… so young… such talent… I pity your past…" Dumbledore shook his head sadly, an almost imperceptible glimmer of tears in his wise eyes.

Snape stood up, and moved to look out of the window. The sun had nearly disappeared over the horizon, and yet some last few rays could still be seen. "It was foolish, Headmaster… it holds no significance for me… The jovialities of youth…" A note of disgust crept into his voice.

"You speak as if you were an old man."

"Does being old mean that one must be advanced in years? Experience begets age… I have experienced too much to be… young."

Dumbledore paused before replying. "You are troubled Severus. And not by the future, but by the past. Those who live in the past waste away equally as fast as those who live in the future."

"And yet those who forget the past are fools."

"A compromise then. Learn from your mistakes. But do not dwell on them too much."

"That is hardly difficult Headmaster. As I have told you, my experience was insignificant. It means nothing."

"Your heart – I am sure – would beg to differ. You pass off something that many would give their right arms to experience… as insignificant?"

"I do."

Dumbledore shook his head in sorrow. "You would not see it as something remarkable... something wonderful?"

"I would not" was the curt reply.

"And you fail to acknowledge that your very being is torn into shreds of agony, that one whole half of your heart is with that person – wherever that person may be – whom you shared the thunderbolt with?"

"I do fail to acknowledge it. After all why should I agree with something that is not true?"

"And yet… it was you yourself mentioned that you had experienced a thunderbolt?"

Snape stiffened. He had indeed said the same.

"Besides being a magical mystery, a thunderbolt… not only rare… is one of the most beautiful things one can experience. I regret to say, that although I have knowledge of many occasions of perfect moments, I cannot lay claim to having undergone the thunderbolt… I thought it a myth… a hyperbole spread by young lovers to exaggerate their experiences. I am most curious."

A bitter tone entered Snape's voice. "Curious? Headmaster… how can you call a thunderbolt beautiful? Indeed… it is the most hideous… the most wretched thing conceivable."

"How so?" Dumbledore asked in a polite voice that all too obviously displayed his clear defiance of Snape's opinions on the subject. Recognising this, the young man turned away from the window, prepared to elucidate his point. However, almost immediately, he gave up. How could he defend something that was so obviously untrue?

"You see?"

Snape nodded. He looked out of the window again. The sun had disappeared completely. Dumbledore, standing some feet away gazed at the silhouette of the tortured man in front of him and a great wave of sadness fell over his heart. His words from earlier on in the evening came back to him. _So young…_

Snape walked back to his chair. Dumbledore carelessly flicked his wand and the meagre curtains snapped shut, another flick and the door followed suit, still another and a roaring fire sprang up in the hearth, bathing the room in light. "Tell me," he said calmly.

"What do you wish to know?" Snape asked him.

"Anything that _you_ want to tell me."

Snape paused a moment, contemplating where to begin. "And you will not-"

Dumbledore interrupted him, with firmness: "Whatever you choose to disclose shall not pass this room."

Snape nodded, completely reassured, and without any further ado, he began.

o.o.o

The present-day Snape was brought, once again, out of his reverie by a sound. Something had rushed in from the open window of the great room in which he sat. Stiffening, he drew his wand in one quick movement, and equally as subtly whispered: "_Lumos._" Immediately, the darkness receded and the room was bathed in light. "Fawkes… you have come." The beautiful phoenix gently deposited his load on the stone altar a few feet away from Snape. It was voluminous, wrapped in a rich purple cloak – embossed with golden stars, and looked extremely out of place in its drab and stone-grey surroundings. Snape knew perfectly well what it was.

Fawkes flew over and perched on his shoulder, and with – it would remarkably seem – familiar fondness, he nudged Snape's long hair. The latter smiled and stroked the magnificent creature, which uttered a content croon. Potter wasn't the only one who had befriended Dumbledore's bird. After all, the infamous young sufferer wasn't the only one capable of showing loyalty to Dumbledore.

He moved to the caldron and stirred it a few times clockwise, keeping his movements still and smooth to avoid spilling anything. "Almost ready Fawkes. A few more hours at most… and then we shall truly see the greatness of Albus Dumbledore."

Moving quietly over to the purple-clad object, he gently pulled the cloak away and beheld a serene face. Death had not touched the man. There was no decay, no discolouration; it was like Dumbledore was in a deep sleep – and at any moment Snape expected his wise eyes to open and look at him. He still wore his half-moon glasses – they were probably enchanted to stay on his face.

"You know what to do Fawkes." Immediately, Fawkes flew to Dumbledore, and picking him up effortlessly by his sleeve, he flew to the cauldron and deposited his master into the potion. Immediately, there was a violent hissing and the gold colour of the potion turned into a most wonderful turquoise.

Snape sneered in triumph. "It worked…. As I knew it would." After all, he was not the greatest Potions Master in the world for no reason.

He watched Fawkes fly to the rim of the huge cauldron, and settle there, with as little care as if he were perching on his golden perch in Dumbledore's office. And instantly, he started to sing.

This song was different from any other that Fawkes had ever sung or would ever sing. It was not a lament, or a song of pain or joy… it was none of these things. Instead… it was a call. A summons.

And it was heard. There were brilliant and blinding flashes of light – that made the darkness of moments ago almost as distant as the moon – and out of midair appeared eleven large, beautiful and graceful phoenixes. Silver and gold and red and orange and yellow and blue and green… all colours conceivable were present in that room that night. And as if they had one mind, each and every bird settled around the rim of the cauldron and – along with Fawkes – formed a perfect circle. And instantly, each began to join Fawkes in his song. If one phoenix sounded beautiful, twelve produced an ethereal sound – a sound so incredibly divine, so lovely that Snape was transfixed; he could never have imagined something so otherworldly and delightful. His heart leapt with joy – for it was impossible to feel any pain or sadness. He imagined even the Dreaded himself would feel as much happiness as he was capable of experiencing. And then, there was a flash of light from the centre of the bubbling golden liquid that rose into a column high above the singing birds, high above the cauldron, high above Snape. Each phoenix stopped singing, and the single column of light split into twelve beams and each beam raced towards a phoenix. And as each phoenix received his or her own beam, a brilliant brightness – a flash of light brighter than the sun (Snape turned to avoid being blinded) – emitted from each phoenix. And when it faded, there was silence. Snape turned around towards the cauldron again and saw that each of the creatures was crying. The tears poured thickly and furiously into the cauldron, and the potion bubbled furiously and fiercer than before.

Still the tears came, and kept coming. For twenty minutes Snape stood watching the divine sight, the sight that no one had ever seen before nor ever would, and as he did, the man was humbled. This was why he had chosen to follow Dumbledore. This was why he knew with absolute certainty that Voldemort had no chance against one of the greatest powers the earth yielded: love.

Finally, one by one, the eleven phoenixes who had answered Fawkes, disappeared with flashes of light. The latter rose into the air and hovered, flapping his huge fiery wings, and looked at Snape.

"Ah Fawkes… this is the only way. We devised this years ago in case something like this happened."

Fawkes blinked and then wheeling around towards the column of light still pulsing from the potion, he started to spin, faster and faster, until he was nothing but a blur. And then with a final melodic note of song, he plunged into the centre of the cauldron, into the column of light. Snape heard the splash as the phoenix broke the turquoise surface of the potion. The column of light faded, and once again the fierce bubbling ensued.

"Essence of Felicis, tear of phoenix, blood of soul, spirit of spirit, the Elixir of Life…" Snape twirled his wand in his hands, which were a blur, faster and faster and jets of white light emitted from it, entering the potion without so much as disturbing its surface. And then reaching into the deep volumes of his cloak he pulled out several bottles and in one hurried movement, he emptied the contents of all of them into the potion. And then there was thick silence. No bubbling of the potion, no roaring of the flames… there was silence. And then Snape took another bottle out of his cloak. This bottle contained a substance that no one knew existed. It had been concocted some ten years ago by none other than himself – with Dumbledore's full permission of course. If he were found in possession of it, he would spend the rest of his life in Azkaban. It was so bright, so luminous that Snape had wrapped it in a black cloth. And still he could see its light. Unscrewing the top, he shut his eyes and poured the mysterious liquid into the potion. And the wonderful turquoise of the potion glowed bright as well… and it became luminescent and stayed that way – and its surface gently swayed, although it had not been stirred.

"Nothing to do but wait," Snape muttered to himself. The darkness was back, save for the gentle illumination provided by the potion. He sat down and remembered, with an arrogant laugh, the words he had uttered almost six years ago: _"I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death."_ The boast – particularly the last three words – had not been made in vain.

He resumed his thoughts.

o.o.o

**Author's Note**: I would just like to bring attention to this last passage: "He sat down and remembered, with an arrogant laugh, the words he had uttered almost six years ago: '_I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, **even stopper death.'**_

An observant reviewer has pointed out that "it's supposed to be 'put a stopper in death' not 'stopper death'."

I would just like to say that "stopper death" is from the UK version Harry Potter books, which I use. In the movies, it is indeed "put a stopper in death" (and I think it might be the same in the American version). But I am using the UK version quote – i.e. "stopper death," because this is the version that I have.


	2. 2

Disclaimer: The author of this fanfiction is in no way connected with or endorsed by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, Bloomsbury Publishing or Warner Bros and does not wish to make any sort of profit from this fanfiction. Ownership to characters in the Harry Potter books is neither claimed nor implied. All original content and material belongs to the author of this fanfiction and so therefore any reproduction of this text without the author's consent is prohibited.

Chapter 2

"At the end of my seventh year at Hogwarts, I sat my NEWTs and left, with no small amount of enthusiasm. There was nothing attaching me to that place, save bitter memories and loathing. Of course, what anybody else thought of me was worth to me little more than a bite from a werewolf.

What to do next? I knew my skill at Potions was considerable. I knew my talents at the Dark Arts were perhaps even more advanced – and it was certainly the latter I preferred. But try as I might, none would give me a chance at my favoured subject. The simpering fools were too afraid, I suppose. The Dark Lord was nearing the considerable height of his power. Anyone expressing any keen liking of the Dark Arts could – more than likely – be a Death Eater. The only one who would give me a chance was Lockhart – a petulant fraud if ever there was one – and he offered me the position to be his assistant. I had the temptation to curse him to high heaven, but refrained.

And so I bid my time, and waited a few months. Still nothing. Finally, I sighed, threw up my hands and gave up. Naturally, if I could not find employment in one area, I must try for another. I had a natural affinity with Potions. There was something about the calm and methodical procedures of making a potion… the exact measurements, the fumes, the gentle simmer of the potion… the crackle of the fire… I delved more deeply into the subject than the great Arsenius Jigger himself. I discovered new concoctions, quicker methods of brewing, deadlier poisons… more potent truth serums… it was little wonder that I was approached by the Dark Lord's minions a little while later to join his ranks…

Anyhow, it was in the winter of that year – five months after I left Hogwarts – that I, what with my excellent NEWTs, started work at the Ministry – Committee on Experimental Potions – as a Junior Potions Master. _Junior!_ I knew more about Potions than any of the _senior_ fools who were working above me. I could whip up a Polyjuice Potion in half a month, while the rest of the blockheads slavered over their text-books, waiting twenty one days for their lacewing flies to stew… pedantic dunderheads that they were.

The war with the Dark Lord had forced the Ministry to use any means necessary to do whatever it could. I was developing Potions so strong, so highly illegal, so unethical – and yet Ministry sanctioned – that, naturally, I was delighted with my profession, and it was not long before I was approached.

I remember the afternoon rather well. I was developing the Potion now known as the Mandrake Restorative Draught – since there were many cases of Petrifaction at that time. Just as I'd pulled the irritating creature I was dealing with out of its pot, I was told that I had a visitor. Naturally riled, I squashed the filthy imbecile back into its home and wiping my hands, approached the door. I was shocked at seeing Bode – head of the Department of Mysteries – and Millicent Bagnold – the Ministress of Magic at that time. The conversation was short and only the Ministress spoke:

"Your skill at Potions is considerable. The Ministry had decided that your talent would be better employed elsewhere. Report to the Department of Mysteries – Level 9 – first thing tomorrow."

I could barely acknowledge this before the intolerable couple left. And so, I became… an unspeakable.

The rumours – in this case only – were true. The Department of Mysteries was advocating the making and inventions of Potions that should never have been made, so truly horrifying they were. And I was directly responsible for making them.

The Department, as you very well know, has twelve classified committees. I could only guess what happened in the other eleven, but as far as I was concerned, my home for the next few months would be the Potions lab. And impressive it was. An enormous room, with the latest equipment in Potions. Rare and deadly ingredients were common place, and it was all mine and one other's.

So Headmaster, many of the dangerous Class A Potions you know: Everlasting Elixirs, Veritaserum, the _Victus Flamma_… all were brewed first and foremost by me. Of course, this story isn't about my achievements… otherwise it would turn into an epic tale spanning in all directions with mass proportions.

I have mentioned that there was to be another one working alongside me. And it was my luck that this happened to be a woman. It was further bad luck that this woman used to be in The Slug Club – her idea of herself was thus further inflated. And last and worst of all, she was a Black. Now if there exists any more arrogance-inspiring combination, I have yet to see it. The creature thought, quite literally, that she was a gift unto the Wizarding community. Her arrogance and big headedness, unlike my own, had a false source. I found her talent at Potions acceptable. Her skill at other aspects of magical education was similarly… acceptable. Her name you might wonder… well her name was Pétale Black. A dear old cousin of Sirius Black. Disowned of course, because her father – the brother of Nigellus' great-grandsons – had married a French dame; a mudblood, and the result of the happy union was this… _woman_…

The usual Black graces were all present in the fair mademoiselle. She was small – so small that she barely came up to my chin, thin, fair and with eyes that held the fires of hell itself. And I despised her. Utterly and profusely.

My first day as an Unspeakable dawned and I arrived at my post promptly, dressed in plain black robes. You may remember the look I _chose_ to adopt at Hogwarts. I do assure you that that was purely a choice. An acquaintance had informed me that if I was to have a chance at a job, I must change my personal appearance. I saw the sense of this, and so disappeared my long hair – replaced by a shorter style – so disappeared my stringy sallow look. I was pale still and this was the way I wished it. In short, although I wasn't going to set any female hearts fluttering – no desire did I have to do so – I did look somewhat professional and… acceptable.

Bode was present – sullen man that he is – and he introduced me to my colleague, who was dressed in plain black robes several sizes too large for her. My first impression of her was that she was a child, she was so small.

"Severus, meet Pétale Black, Pétale this is Sev-

With unbounded enthusiasm the munchkin strode forward with her small hand outstretched and an alarmingly huge grin on her impish face. "Severus Snape, yes I know… who doesn't? Pleased to meet you…" she spoke with a perfect accent; there was no hint of her French origin present. For courtesy's sake, I was forced to shake her hand, hot and moist though it was, it was completely enveloped with my own. I forced a smile, although it must have come out looking like anything but because she withdrew a few steps.

"Your instructions will be left each morning on your desks. Because of the nature of your work, you will be afforded no assistants. Remember also that you are both Unspeakables so the outside world must not get a hint of what you do here. You must dress at all times within the Department in your black robes. Good day." The sallow-faced man left; I've never seen Bode since… of course, I have no desire to.

We were, as I described before, in the Potions lab, an enormous room, lit brilliantly, with gently simmering cauldrons. It was a large circular room – like the one with twelve doors we had just exited, and arrayed around it were cupboards, bookshelves, shelves all containing Potions equipments, ingredients and books. In the middle of the room were, as I mentioned before, long tables with gently simmering cauldrons and crackling flames beneath them; the temperature of the room was enchanted to stay cool. At the two opposite north and south poles of the rooms were two huge oak desks, each containing its own simmering cauldron. My intellectual appetite was whet, and I was impatient to get to work. Left to my own devices, I felt that I could learn to have a little fondness for my job. I had not calculated on my 'comrade.'

"I'm so glad to be working here."

I grunted my agreement and I proceeded to a desk bearing a placard on its surface stating: "Snape, Severus." There was a single slip of paper on it – alongside with the cauldron and a pair of dragon skin gloves – and in a cryptic style of handwriting, I read the words: 'Devise a potion that will make the drinker invisible for a few hours. For reference, see the Encyclopaedia Venenum; Section Entitled "Invisibility: Cause and Effect – the Incognitus Hominis."' The encyclopaedia in question was stored in a huge shelf near my desk. There were approximately one hundred and fifty thick volumes, and I was delighted to behold the most extensive library on Potions that I had ever seen. "This will do… very well indeed." I muttered to myself, and immediately delved into my work.

Alas, not to be. I had temporarily forgotten Ms. _Pétale_ but she would not bear her royal presence to be ignored. Bounding amid the tables – barely taller than the cauldrons themselves – she oo'd and aa'd at all the different things before her eyes, rather like a child in a toy shop. Moving towards her desk – I was rather interested to see what her task was for the day and silently hoped that it was not similar to mine – the little wretch turned to see where I was, and banged headfirst into a cauldron, the contents of which spilled all over her.

I was rather tempted to leave her where she was, but I could hear her moaning, and the little mercy that I have was piqued and so I started towards the source of the groans. Finally seeing a heap at the end of a row of tables, I started towards it, and just as I neared, I saw it move slightly. _Good_, I thought, _at least she's not dead._ Even before I neared her, I smelt the spilt potion and relaxed. Peppermint draught… nothing harmful. The creature was probably burnt and nothing else. Jogging back to a store cupboard, I delved among the shelves until I found what I wanted.

The moans were growing louder. _Insufferable little brat,_ I thought. _Can't she wait?_ Jogging back to her, I turned the small heap over and beheld her covered in burns, with her eyes screwed shut and her hands covering her face.

"Silly creature. This is not a toy shop where you may frolic and skip around like a child. This is a Potions lab. Be very thankful that the potion wasn't full of essence of aconite or you'd be dead."

I forced her hands away from her small face, smeared the orange paste over burns – loathe to touch her – and after a few minutes the burns and the paste faded, and she was back to herself, with a bruised ego of course. Springing up, she sprung my hand a few times again.

"Thank you Mr Snape…"

"You shall address me as '_Professor_,' Ms Black. I hold the station of a Senior Potions Master. And there is no need to thank me. A little discretion on your part would be all the gratitude that I need."

She was a little spiffed at my dry reply, but took it all in a stride.

"Well thank you Professor. And you can call me Pétale."

"As you wish Ms Black."

I resumed my work.


	3. 3

Disclaimer: The author of this fanfiction is in no way connected with or endorsed by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, Bloomsbury Publishing or Warner Bros and does not wish to make any sort of profit from this fanfiction. Ownership to characters in the Harry Potter books is neither claimed nor implied. All original content and material belongs to the author of this fanfiction and so therefore any reproduction of this text without the author's consent is prohibited.

Chapter 3

"The next day, the little wretch was even more fidgety. To my extreme horror, I had found that we would be brewing the same potion. And so I had consigned myself to the opposite side of the room from her.

'… _There have been many attempts to brew an Invisibility Potion… the latest by Professor Horace Slughorn – currently in employment at Hogwarts – under strict Ministry guidelines. The potion, if made properly would be classed a Grade A potion – due to some extremely sensitive ingredients involved in its creation.  
__After extensive study and initial experimentation, Professor Slughorn concluded that to achieve the level of invisibility required, extremely rare and dangerous substances which the Ministry has forbidden, would be needed during the potion's brewing. Acromantula venom, for example, is required to induce the crystallisation of the Antipodean Opaleye Draught; another necessary prerequisite is Unicorn Blood-_'

I stopped reading.

Unicorn Blood. They were asking me to use Unicorn Blood. This war had totally stripped the Ministry with any morals it possessed. Unicorn Blood!

"What's the matter Professor?" piped a small, annoying voice. I turned around. Pétale stood behind me, with an enquiring glance on her face. She must have seen me from across the room, and had probably marched towards me, determined to wrestle the truth out of me with her weak little hands. I must have looked pale. Of course I must have! They were asking me to use… Unicorn Blood. Even now I shudder. She stepped closer to me and peered up into my face, standing on her toes.

"What's the matter?" She reiterated. I gazed into her gently curious face.

Disgusted with my weakness, I turned, handing her the large book. She nearly fell with its weight and disgusted at _her_ weakness, I snarled and snatched the book from her and placed it on a nearby desk, muttering an indignant "honestly!" in the process.

"Read."

She read. I watched her with interest. How would the frail little woman take something so heinous? Remarkably well it would seem. I was shocked beyond words when she said (with perfect clam and curiosity I might add): "What?"

What sort of Dark Wizard was she? How could she not respond to something so horribly treacherous? I told her as much. A blush arose in her pale face. I watched with satisfaction as she struggled in her embarrassment.

"What?" she repeated.

"You can read I assume Ms Black?"

She turned a withering stare on me. "Of course I can, Professor."

"Undoubtedly," I sneered, scorn etched all over my face, "not very well. You have absorbed the information about the Unicorn Blood?"

"Yes…"

"Well?"

"Well what?"

I sighed in exasperation. This incensing little wretch! "You do not know the curse of Unicorn Blood?"

"Curse…?" A blank look flitted across her pale little face.

"For the love of-" I turned around, infuriated. "You do not know…"

"Professor?" persisted the agonisingly irritating woman.

"Yes," I spoke through gritted teeth.

"About this curse…"

There was a tight pause. I sighed, and then stalked over to the book.

"Unicorn blood," I said, "has miraculous properties. The only way – at least the only known way – to obtain Unicorn Blood is to slay a Unicorn. This is one of the biggest and most monstrous crimes one can commit. A Unicorn is the essence of pure innocence. Unicorn Blood has miraculous healing properties like phoenix tears. Unlike phoenix tears however, Unicorn Blood is cursed if used to heal and keep someone alive; that person will lead a cursed life, a dark life, a half-life, because they have used the essence of pure innocence."

She shuddered. My own voice had descended to a whisper.

"But… we aren't using it to heal anyone. We're using it for a potion."

I nodded. "Which is why nothing will happen to us. Of course, where the Ministry obtained the Unicorn Blood is beyond me. That doesn't matter. What matters is that they're willing to use the blood of something so innocent for their own purposes. We, as brewers, are handling it, not for ourselves, but for the Ministry; nothing will happen to us, but I am still loath to touch the blood of pure innocence."

She had stepped close to me. She now looked up into my face. "And we have to use this blood to brew the Invisibility Potion."

I sighed. "That's what the encyclopaedia suggests. But I'm going to keep that as a last resort. I'm sure there is another way." I paused, racking my brains for a solution.

"How about using Dragon Blood? They're highly magical creatures."

I snorted. "Ms Black… I assumed you possessed a shred of knowledge regarding Potions. I was sadly mistaken."

"What?" Once again the blank look.

"Besides the puzzled repetitions of the word 'what' and the numerous examples of basic Potion knowledge that you seem to be lacking… you have not added anything useful to this conversation."

"Humph!" She snorted, raising one eyebrow and looking at me unbelievingly.

I turned to regard her, bringing the full weight of my stare on her little countenance.

"You are an Unspeakable. You work for in the Department of Mysteries, for the Ministry of Magic, brewing new potions and concoctions… and you have not one shred of knowledge telling you that Dragon Blood – although highly magical – cannot be used in a Potion simply because it is reacts devastatingly with practically every single magical substance known to wizard-kind" I smiled in triumph as I saw her face flush.

"You're being very rude Professor." She accused, her hands on her hips. She would have been formidable… if only she were a few feet higher.

"Rude? By all means, call me what you will. Humour yourself. There's a vial of Dragon Blood in the cupboard across the room. Why don't you mix it with a harmless substance like… oh say… the peppermint draught you managed to spill all over yourself yesterday?"

She blushed crimson. I was loving her embarrassment. This would show the arrogant little mademoiselle.

"You know Professor, being nice wouldn't be asking for too much."

"I'm afraid I cannot stand ignorance Ms Black. Ignorance despises genius. And genius inspires envy." I was enjoying the waspish look that was projected towards me from her face.

"Genius? I take it you mean yourself?"

"Why yes, I suppose I do."

"And you believe that I'm jealous of you?"

I replied in the affirmative, straightening to my full height, a good one and a half feet more than her. The little brat became more outraged.

"Jealous of you? What possible reason could I have of being jealous of _you_?" She spoke the last word as if it were poison.

I openly sneered. "Oh please, spare me your… _wit_. You are jealous of me. Admit it. You are jealous of my considerable intellect; of my reputation; of my skill and talent at Potions. In short, you are a jealous little busy body, who lacks the self-control to keep her temper under check. Why I can read your thoughts this very moment, you foolish little creature (_quite literally_, I thought to myself). So wallow in your self-indignant righteousness. If I knew I was to work with an amateur, I would have refused this job."

"Amateur?" Her anger was plainly shown in red hues across her face; her large eyes stared like daggers at me. Her hands were clenched into fairy fists by her side.

"Precisely. You do not even know the properties of Dragon Blood… an honour only a five year old can lay claim to."

"I would have you know… _Professor_… I've been brewing Potions since I was seven. And I did know the properties of Dragon Blood. I was only-"

"Testing me?" I interrupted.

She gazed unbelievingly at me. "Of course not. Don't be ridiculous. I know perfectly well that only Hungarian Horntale Blood is reactive. Other species of dragons have perfectly unreactive blood."

I was a little surprised. Not many people knew this. "But it is only the Horntale blood that would possess sufficient magic to make a potion powerful enough to induce Invisibility."

"I was merely suggesting Professor. I didn't-"

"O calm yourself woman. You'll hurt yourself." I stepped down and approached her. "You said you had been brewing potions since you were seven? And yet you lack the basic knowledge that is a prerequisite to any Potions Master, Mistress, or novice. Your little self applies to the latter category."

She slapped me. I admit, I was stunned. Only for a second, of course.

I looked at her contemptuously. "Perhaps you ought to grow a few feet before expecting your… slap was it? – it can hardly be called that – to hurt anyone beyond the age of nine…"

I stepped towards her.

She didn't back down, the minute little monster. Stooping down, I grabbed one of her fists – it was hot and clenched tightly. She tried to pull it away.

"What are you-"

"Be quiet child." I held her hand up. "You think this is the hand of a Potions Brewer?" I smirked, scornfully. "Why didn't you go into the field of Charms or Muggle Studies?"

She ripped her hand away, with fire in her eyes.

"You intolerable, overgrown… bat!"

"Really. Don't give yourself airs. Are you even qualified to be here?"

"You unfriendly, slimy- no wonder you didn't have any friends at Hogwarts!"

I stiffened. The insufferable little- "Friends? You didn't think that I perhaps chose to stay aloof?"

"Oh please! Snape, you couldn't befriend someone if they asked you to!"

I gritted my teeth, and clenched her skinny arm tighter. "Don't dare to talk to me like that," I snarled icily, my anger fully provoked. "You are to address me as Professor. I thought I made that clear yesterday. Or perhaps your addled brain cannot handle that one simple instruction?"

"And I thought I told you to call me by my first name. And what if I do talk to you like that? I may talk however I wish," she replied, a strangely triumphant look in her brown eyes.

I pulled her arms and drew her even closer to me, until our noses were almost touching. I could feel the heat from her little body. I infused my whisper with my most dangerous, deadliest iciness. "You will respect me if you expect me to follow suit. Or you might find yourself… seriously hurt."

There was a flicker of something in her eyes. She pushed me back and her voice quivered. "You disgusting man. How dare you threaten me! I've dealt with bullies ten times worse than you!"

I laughed contemptuously, retreating so I could see all of her. I swept my gaze over her whole body. She was young. The same age as me. Maybe slightly younger. I didn't know. I wasn't good with judging people's age. There was the mixture of the French and Black family blood in her; she was a "petite madame," with brown hair; a small, pale face; large brown eyes – that filled with emotion remarkably quickly as I had just noticed; a small mouth; almost a child-like figure; not too voluptuous – not that I cared. Of course, with her loose black robes I couldn't judge very well. I found her a silly little woman – too sensitive, with an unmanageable temper and hardly anything in the way of skill and talent. In short, she was nothing special. And yet… there was something about her. Something that I couldn't place. Almost… as if I'd seen her before somewhere. However, I judged that to be a silly fancy of mine, and so I banished the thought to the back of my mind.

I snorted in contempt, turning and dismissing her. She wasn't worth it.

"I was talking to you. How dare you turn away!"

Rage coursed through me. The annoying brat didn't know when to stop talking. "First of all _Ms Black_… I shall dare to do whatever I want to do. You would do well to remember that. Second of all, I will not be commanded by the likes of you. Since circumstances have forced us to work together, I suggest we keep this relationship entirely professional-"

"As if I'd want it any other way!" she had the audacity to mutter under her breath.

I chose to ignore her. "And third of all, I rather doubt that you have 'dealt with bullies ten times worse than me' as you so eloquently put it. I do assure you, I'm far worse than anything you have yet experienced in your sheltered little life, so I suggest you do nothing to provoke me, you little imp."

A furious look came into her eyes. "You are the most intolerable man I've ever met. Here I thought that I was going to be working with someone who would actually be… oh well you know… _nice_! From the moment I met you yesterday, you've treated me like I'm an inferior!"

"Oh? You ignorant woman… the world out there," I swept my arm in an arc to indicate said world, "does not run because of 'nice' people. You do what you have to to earn a living. And then you die! That's life Ms Black. Deal with it. Seldom in your life are you ever going to meet _nice_ people." I finished this little speech on a serious tone. I meant what I said.

"You think so?" She asked me quietly.

"I don't think, I know. This is not Hogwarts, where you have your fellow gang of Gryffindors to back you up. This is the _real world_. Loyalty, honour, friendship… what are they but figments of imagination. You see how he-who-must-not-be-named, day by day, is slowly and steadily taking over our world? I'm sure he cannot lay claim to any friends. The only weapons in this world are fear and the intelligence to use that fear to your advantage. I pity those fools who suggest otherwise."

She had been listening to me. There was a strange look on her face. "You sound just like a Dark Wizard," she said quietly, her eyes sweeping my face.

An intolerable sadness swept through me. My anger of a moment ago was all but forgotten. "I do?" I replied quietly. "But you recognise the truth of my words?"

She shook her head. "I believe that there is such a thing as friendship. Look at Albus Dumbledore, the Order of the Phoenix; I'm sure they don't operate on your philosophy of instilling fears in others."

I pondered a moment. "Albus Dumbledore is a great wizard. Greatness inspires confidence. They say Dumbledore is the only one the Dark Lord fears. I don't refute or acknowledge this claim. But in time… mark my words… in time everyone realises the lesson that Slytherin teaches. In the great world there is only one person you can rely on and that is yourself."

She shook her head again, this time in evident pity. "What sort of a life is that? Do you not care for any friends?"

I laughed. "Don't be preposterous."

She fired up. "Can't you take anything I say seriously?"

I regarded her again. She looked away uneasily. "I have learnt… through hard lessons… that I am the only one that I can trust."

"Then I pity you. You've never had a friend."

"I do not want your pity. Nor do I want friendship."

She tutted, and then turned away. I shrugged. "So be it," I whispered. She whipped around.

"Did you say anything?" she asked sharply.

I glanced at her surprised. "No."

"You did. You said something. What did you say?"

I looked at her strangely. "What is the matter with you, you curious girl. Go do your work."

She whipped out her wand. "I thought I told you not to be-"

Before she finished her sentence, I had whipped out my own wand, and muttered quietly: "Accio wand." Her wand flew to my hands. "10 inches, oak, tail feather of… an Abraxan." I looked up surprised. "This isn't an Ollivander wand."

She marched up to me, tiny little fairy, tight-lipped. She snatched her wand from me. "You sordid, unkind, evil-faced man…"

I laughed. "You humour me."

She raised her small hand, almost as if to strike me again. "I told you did I not, woman, that it would be better if you didn't provoke me. You might one day find that I've accidentally spilt a few drops of the Draught of Living Death in your cup of tea… _do not cross me_. You might have had royal treatment in the 'most noble and ancient house of Black,' but don't expect me to bow down before you. I had enough of your type at Hogwarts. No more."

"My type," she was livid, crimson spots of rage on her cheeks. "Well yes I suppose you did. By the way, have you recently spoken to James or Sirius?"

I stepped back as if slapped. She laughed sadistically.

"Potter and Black? Ah yes, the Gryffindor heroes. Did you never notice that they always approached me together? Never alone? I could curse each and every Gryffindor to high heaven if only they were courageous enough to face me alone."

"Don't be ridiculous, _Snape_. As if Slytherins possessed any courage."

"Oh really?"

"Yes really."

I laughed a short laugh. "Get away from me. Do what you will… but stay away from me, you abominable, foolish… pixie!"


	4. 4

Disclaimer: The author of this fanfiction is in no way connected with or endorsed by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, Bloomsbury Publishing or Warner Bros and does not wish to make any sort of profit from this fanfiction. Ownership to characters in the Harry Potter books is neither claimed nor implied. All original content and material belongs to the author of this fanfiction and so therefore any reproduction of this text without the author's consent is prohibited.

Chapter 4

"I carefully poured… one, two, three drops… and then a pinch of powdered Bundimun secretion. Seven times I stirred the delicate green potion, seeing my fingers around the phial through its transparency, and then seven times the opposite way. Almost imperceptibly, the green colour darkened and the phial became a little heavier. And there. My part was done. Now the second half of the potion. She should have finished by now.

"Ms Black," I called, in a slightly raised voice – she was across the large room. "Is the moonstone and Acromantula venom solution ready?"

"Yes. One moment."

I heard her pour something and then a moment later, she came, gazing stonily in front of her, carefully avoiding my eyes, holding a large glass container, filled with a dark purple liquid. I was not offended in the least, but was it really too much to ask that the woman _look_ where she was walking, instead of gazing straight ahead like an Inferius?

I took the container from her, briefly coming into contact with her hands. Why were they always so warm? It was important that I handle the container with the utmost care. It had taken many hours to brew the potion, and to drop it would have been a huge waste of time and precious ingredients. Gently unscrewing the cap, I set it down on the solid mahogany table in front of me. Donning my dragon skin gloves, I moved a fresh, empty and smaller container towards me, and poured a little of the purple solution into it.

I held it to my nose and sniffed; a slight fragrance of jasmines crept up my nose, but behind the delicate scent, there was a sharper and more poignant sting – like that from a spirit. Perfect. I held it up to the light, inspecting its transparency, its viscosity, its thickness.

"Brewed to amazing perfection," I muttered to myself, totally forgetting my companion.

Perhaps her claim to being experienced at Potions was well-founded? This… this Pétale… she was a strange thing. After all, I had seldom seen a potion more exactly made. And a rather complicated one at that; there was only one person I knew who could make a potion to that exact specification, and that person was me. I looked at her appraisingly. She flushed, all too aware of my gaze, but still blindly refusing to look at me. _'Lord, what fools these mortals be!' _I thought in amused exasperation. The little woman had remained indignantly aloof from me since our argument. _Women! _I thought.

"This is… well made. Your first time at brewing this?" It cost me. It seriously did. I was not in the habit of handing out compliments left and right; in fact, this was probably one of the few times I had genuinely felt surprise at another's talent.

Apparently, Pétale felt surprised too, because she turned towards me, a look of shock on her elfin face. She nodded.

"There's more to you than meets the eye Ms Black," I mused to myself.

Immediately, she looked away.

I snorted. "Anyhow, let us continue. Let us see what happens when we mix the two together."

She reached over to the phial I had been working on, and gently added two drops to the purple solution; immediately, the purple turned into a brilliant, shocking, luminescent orange.

"Good. Perfect. And now to test it." I conjured a mouse – white and terrified – and before it could realise where it was and run for cover, I inserted a few drops into its mouth. Immediately, it disappeared. I could sill here it squeaking, and with a disinterested flick of my wand at the source of the sound, I conjured it whence it had come.

"It worked."

And we had not used Unicorn Blood.

o.o.o

"If I had thought that perhaps the Invisibility Potion was the worst and most unethical thing we would be making, I was sadly mistaken.

Let me explain.

After two more days of working like we were, Pétale and I had reached a ceasefire. A truce. It was impossible to work in an environment where the only people involved weren't even talking to each other. As I had suggested earlier the relationship was kept purely professional. Nothing personal was brought into the conversation. Not that I cared. As far I was concerned, at work the only thing that should be discussed was… work. And I had learnt to appreciate her better. She was, what I called, an innocent potion brewer. She knew the text-books inside out. She could brew anything I told her to. But she knew absolutely nothing about the darker side of potion-making. The illegal, the unethical, the forbidden… and she was little more experienced than a child.

So once again, when we got our next assignment, she was puzzled.

"But what's wrong with that? I'm assuming they mean something that can destroy them?"

I looked down at the paper that had been left on my desk: '_Devise a Dementifiyng Potion._' There were no references, for one simple reason: this had never been tried before.

I collected my thoughts. "No, they don't. That's the problem Ms Black. The only way to destroy a Dementor is by using the Patronus Charm. Perhaps great wizards like Dumbledore know other ways, but I doubt the average wizard or witch would be able to use them. Aside from sucking all happiness, hope and power out of those nearest to them, Dementors can also turn others like themselves by performing the Kiss, and sucking out their souls. This is the only way that other Dementors can be made… by other Dementors. That's not the way the Ministry wants it. No… they're not asking us to make a potion that will destroy Dementors… they're asking us to make one that will… create Dementors."

She gasped. Her pale fairy face became paler still. "But isn't that…"

"Illegal? Unethical? Moral suicide?" I nodded. "Yes it is. But when has that ever stopped the Ministry? They don't know what they're doing. Undoubtedly a potion like this can be created. But if it falls into the wrong hands…" I shuddered. "Voldemort (she gasped – the name did not bother me) scarcely needs more weapons. This would mean that an ordinary witch or wizard – a child for all we know – could create one of the most monstrous creatures alive. I don't even know how you would go about it. Not yet anyway. Nor do I wish to know. Yes the Dark Arts and the more unethical side of Potions have always interested me… but not to this extent."

There was a pause.

"I refuse to make this."

I looked at her. There was a determined look on her face. _Small as a pixie and stubborn as a mule,_ I thought. "You refuse to make this?"

She nodded.

"And you will not help me to make this?"  
She shook her head.

"You will in fact march straight to the Ministress and you will give her a piece of your mind?"

She nodded again.

I burst out laughing. "Very well, Ms Black. It was wonderful working with you."

"I don't care if they fire me Snape. I will not be a part of something like this. And if you have any ethics you will not be either."

I was amused. "But my dear woman… do you think your resigning your post will make any difference whatsoever to your position?"

"They can't force me to make something so terrible."

"I beg to differ. Undoubtedly, you were told that 'your skills at potion was tremendous' and that you would be working in the Department of Mysteries here on in?"

She nodded once again. I could see the cogs turning in her mind.

"And you think you have the choice and freedom to resign when you did not have the choice and freedom to accept or decline the initial offer?"

She was silent.

"What I mean, Ms Black is, that your options, at this time, are rather limited. You can either attempt to resign, unsuccessfully I can assure you. You can consider yourself a fugitive and, as the cliché goes: 'run for it.' If caught you would either be killed, brainwashed or sent to Azkaban. Once in the Department of Mysteries, you can't simply 'walk out.' You will be relieved of this job when the Ministress wishes it. And at the time when she does wish it, certain – more sensitive – parts of your memory will be modified so that you don't 'spill the beans' about what you've been doing her. If there wasn't a war raging around us, it might be different, but since we are in one…"

She had paled once again. But as I looked at her, I saw a fiery flame of resistance spring up in her eyes. She pulled out her wand, and clutched it tightly.

"I told you Snape, I will _not_ be made to brew things that I don't want to."

I was truly alarmed. Surely, she didn't mean what she was saying? "You'll get hurt, woman."

"Oh please. I'll risk the chance of being hurt to keep my freedom instead of being locked in this room, being forced to create disgusting things stuck here with-"

I knew she was going to say: 'you.' And judging by her blush, she realised this too. The thought, I admit, bothered me somewhat. How dare the little wench suggest that I unfit to work with? After all, had I not tried to keep my temper in check – an attribute, I can say with confidence, that could not be applied to her?

I turned my tone as waspish as possible. "By all means, oh seeker of freedom and upholder of moral justice, try all you will. I shall wait here patiently for mademoiselle's return."

"Goodbye Snape." And with her little nose in the air, she stalked out.

o.o.o

Ten minutes later, she was back. Fuming and as angry as I had ever seen her. She had been '_escorted_' back by a witch in green robes – showing she was an auror.

"So how _was_ your little sojourn?"

She stood up again and pointed her wand at me. "Oh shut up Snape. At least I tried to get away. At least I have some sense of right and wrong!"

I watched her lazily, utterly bored with her vexatious energy. "Oh please, woman. At least _I_ have common sense. Rather that, than being right all the time. Do you really think feeling righteous is going to get you anywhere?"

She was gritting her teeth, and I was amused at the enormous self control she was employing against leaping straight at my neck. "Do you really want me to disarm you again Ms Black? I suggest you do not threaten me, since really… _I have done nothing._"

And it was true. She was taking her anger out on me. I really had done nothing. I had merely suggested the foolishness of her course of action. The woman knew what was good for her, however, and she lowered her wand, sank on to a chair, and assumed a seemingly defeated air.

"Oh if I could only contact Father! He'd get me out of this mess!"

I was interested. This was the first time she had mentioned her family.

"I did not know that Black had a sister." I mused.

"He doesn't," she replied.

"Well then Bellatrix…?"

"No…" she replied again.

I was confused. "As far as I know, there were only two Black brothers…"

She remained silent. Touché. She didn't want to talk about it. Very well. I concentrated my mind and entered into her memories. But almost immediately, felt myself facing a mental block – albeit a rather crude one.

"Oh stop it Snape. You read my thoughts once before. I didn't say anything. But I assure you that if you try it again, I'll curse you to high heaven."

I snorted. "Of course you will. But… you are a Legilimens?"

She paused. Then smiling, she shook her head. "No just an Occlumens."

"You can guard your mind – not very well mind you – and yet you cannot penetrate others'. Ironic." I smiled languidly.

There was a slight silence.

"Tell me something, Ms Black. _With all respect,_" I sneered, "how is it that you are so…"

She looked up towards me.

"…small?" I finished, keeping my laughter in check.

I saw her flush. The sight satisfied me somewhat. "What business is it of yours?"

"Oh none really. Mere curiosity. In fact, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were about seven years younger than you appear."

She turned away, red with humiliation. I snorted.

"Come now, little_maitresse_. Surely the subject doesn't embarrass you?"

She turned back towards me, slightly composed. "I'll tell you _Professor,_" there was scorn in her voice – I became on guard, "if you can tell me something."

I gazed curiously at her. "And what do _you_ want to know about _me_?"

"Why are you so… horrible?"

I smiled with coldness at her. "It's my nature."

She quickly spoke again: "I want to know something else as well."

I nodded my consent.

"Why were you a greasy, sallow-faced _nobody_ at Hogwarts, up to his eyeballs in the Dark Arts?" she smiled sweetly.

I waved my hand. "You offend me not," I said casually. It was true. "As to 'greasy and sallow-faced,' believe me if you want to, my appearance was as it was entirely by my choice." She snorted in disbelief.

I smiled again. "The reason you might ask? I had absolutely no wish in anybody – particularly the female of our species – taking any interest in me. Handsome creature that I am, I would have been quite inconvenienced if I had stupid, giggly teenage girls convinced they were in love with me," I said contemptuously. She snorted again.

"You do not find me attractive Ms Black?" I asked her in a purr.

She burst out laughing, and then gazed at me, up and down, much like I had done to her a few days ago. "No, I don't Snape."

I sneered, gazing at her with the intensity of an eagle. I saw her squirm. I enjoyed it. "Of course. Not even a bit?"

She shook her head.

I laughed. "You will of course forgive me… for not… caring?" Pétale huffed.

"As to your second query… myself being a little nobody…" I chose my words carefully. "Frankly, I knew I was a talented individual. My skill at Potions would become legendary, I knew. I was exceptionally capable in the Dark Arts. So what if I was _unpopular_ at school? The thought really did not bother me. I knew that once outside Hogwarts, I would be… truly great. I knew that most of my fellow pupils would lead lives as eventless and dull as themselves; they who possessed nothing but scorn for me. As the saying goes: '_Mediocrity knows nothing higher than itself, but talent instantly recognises genius._'"

"Oh please!"

"You take me in jest, oh fair one," there was evident sarcasm in my quiet voice. "But was it not yourself who, having first met me, said: 'Severus Snape, yes I know… who doesn't?' I believe it _was_ you who said this."

She became quiet, realising the truth of my words.

"I want my answer?"

"What?"

"I wish for my answer Ms Black. You are so miniscule because…?"

"But… I…"

"A deal, fair petal, is a deal."

"Oh stop it!"

"Stop what my delicate flower?"

"Stop with all these ridiculous names? Can't you call me by my name?"

I curled my upper lip in scorn and contempt. "As you will, Ms Black. I thought it would add colour to our conversation."

She burst out laughing.

"I want my answer."

She sighed. "Very well Snape, very well."

I conjured myself a chair and sat down opposite her, and waited expectantly.

She was sitting across from me. Her face was a delicate shade of pink, and her little hands were twisting her black robes. She was looking down at them, and her lashes cast a shadow on her cheeks.

_Not as bad as she seems at first,_ I thought. _She does not possess the looks to make someone blindly in love… but she's not sore to look at._ There was a certain charm about her.

After a few minutes silence, she stood up, squared her shoulders, and looking directly at me said: "I'm not telling you anything Snape. It's a very personal thing, and I don't know why I should tell you anything that I don't want to."

I looked at her, half considering whether I should simply crush any mental defences she had put up to shield her thoughts – I could as easily have done this as turn her into a swan – and find out her secrets by reading her mind. But I decided against this.

"Very well."

She looked at me strangely.

I shrugged. "I have no interest in you or your past."

"Rude and impolite as usual. Couldn't you have said something like: 'I wish to know only what you want to disclose?'"

I sneered again. "But that would have been untrue."

She sighed, apparently giving up any efforts to teach me politeness. Suddenly, she looked back again. "And what of this Dementifying Potion?"

I had temporarily forgotten about this. But once again, I shrugged.

"You mean you're going to make it?"

I looked at her scathingly. "Of course not. If you had used two atoms of common sense – I'm sure you possess that amount, although your later actions have lead me to believe otherwise – they would have told you to wait and perhaps find out what I was going to do, instead of marching out in your self-indignant righteousness to uphold the truth and purity of your character."

"Oh spare me Snape. And you couldn't have just told me? You had to see me make a fool of myself?" she replied angrily.

"I warned you Ms Black."

"But…" she spluttered, "you didn't tell me that you had something in mind!"

"You are an adult Ms Black. Surely you could have worked out for yourself that I would never make this potion?" I countered, enjoying her frustration.

"You sadistic bat! Snape… you… you…" she trembled in her rage.

"Calm yourself Ms Black."

"You meant for me to act like a stupid little child. You enjoyed it."

"While I can fully affirm the latter accusation as the whole and complete truth, the former is obviously a misunderstanding on your part."

There was no consoling her. She was stalking left and right in front of me, on the edge of hysteria. "You did. You didn't say anything because you wanted me to appear foolish!"

"But of course you would know the implications of my actions and words better than… oh say… me?" I asked her.

"What is the matter with you Severus Snape?" She finally turned and looked at me, turning her big, angry eyes upon mine, her fists – once again – clenched into fists by her side.

"I thought, Ms Black, we agreed to keep this relationship entirely and completely professional?" I replied quietly.

She breathed deeply a few times.

I continued. "Leaving all childishness aside, let me tell you what I propose." I stood up, muttered "_Evanesco_" and the chair disappeared. "Simply this: we are instructed to 'devise a potion.' This potion would be a horrendous thing if created, and so our – by this meaning yourself and I – good sense of morality naturally is in confliction with our instructions. There is no way – without bringing harm on ourselves – that we can avoid making this potion."

She opened her mouth to argue again. And in that second when she was unprepared, I caught her eye and initiated a mental connection. "_Surely, Ms Black you do not believe that our very words, our actions are not being monitored as we speak?_"

Her eyes widened once again. "_I didn't know…_"

"_Undoubtedly. It would be wise to go along with the drama._ _The only way – without any harm to ourselves – that we can escape the making of this potion is by purposely failing._"

Her eyes widened as she finally caught on. "_You're saying… we should pretend we can't make the Dementifying Potion?_"

"_That is the only way._"

Aloud I said: "We will try to make this potion."

And she nodded, still looking at me.

It was a horrible place, Headmaster. Everything we did was watched. We were forced to brew horrific potions, and if we did not brew them, if we forced to stop working, our very lives and freedom were at stake. This war had stripped the Ministry bare of any sense of decency.

I contemplated coming to Hogwarts to ask for your help, but I knew that as an Unspeakable, my actions outside the Department of Mysteries and the Ministry were watched.

o.o.o

"One morning, about one and a half weeks after we had started work in the Ministry, a few days before Christmas, I approached my desk, to read that day's instructions. Pétale usually arrived after me. This morning was no different.

I picked up the slip of paper and read command written in the same handwriting as usual.

I come now to the crucial part of me story.


	5. 5

Disclaimer: The author of this fanfiction is in no way connected with or endorsed by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, Bloomsbury Publishing or Warner Bros and does not wish to make any sort of profit from this fanfiction. Ownership to characters in the Harry Potter books is neither claimed nor implied. All original content and material belongs to the author of this fanfiction and so therefore any reproduction of this text without the author's consent is prohibited.

Chapter 5

"Are you sure you wish to accompany me Ms Black?"

My minute counter-part glowered at me indignantly. "And why shouldn't I Snape? Surely you don't have a problem?"

"I would be lying if I said anything to the contrary. However, my desire for you to remain behind in the Ministry stems from my own wish for your continued well-being."

Pétale snorted. "Since when did you start caring about others besides yourself?"

I smiled at her icily. "Have it your own way. By all means, come with me. Know only this, that some of the individuals who inhabit Knockturn Alley wouldn't hesitate to…" I paused, trying to think of the best way to put forward my argument without resorting to vulgarity. "…_have their own way _- if you will - with any witch that crosses their paths."

Her brown eyes widened as she understood what I was saying.

"Of course, you might not have too much of a problem with that," I said silkily, looking her up and down.

Ms Black flushed, blood pouring into her cheeks - making her the sheer embodiment of embarrassment. I sniggered quietly to myself.

And then, with her usual abruptness, she burst out laughing. "Oh please Snape! I'm not a helpless Muggle! If any idiot so much as tries to lay a hand on me, I'll-"

I interrupted. "Let me guess. You'll 'blast them to high heaven.'"

She smiled sweetly at me. "Why, Snape… I'm rubbing off on you."

I turned from her. "Oh joy," I replied dryly to her. To myself I muttered: "Just what I need… pixie-like characteristics!"

"I heard that," she accused me indignantly.

I turned towards her once again. "You did? Pardon me for being not in the slightest bit concerned." I was tired of her. She really was a little imp.

She opened her mouth - undoubtedly to attempt some scathing rebuttal, thought better of it, and said: "Anyway, I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself."

I sighed. "I'm sure you think you are. But some of the vermin that dwell in Knockturn Alley are more than a match for me, without me having to keep an eye on you."

Now, normally the fiery Ms Black would not have stood for this. In fact, this was the very reason I was trying to provoke her. I really did not want her to come with me to Knockturn Alley and add herself to my already growing list of burdens. I thought that perhaps I could get her to be so self-righteously furious with me, that she would refuse to go with me. It does not do to dwell on dreams, however, and... strangely, unnaturally, she turned her little nose up at me, totally ignoring my offence-laden insult.

I stalked close to her, noiselessly, until I was mere few inches from her hair.

"What is the matter with you, little madam? Too superior to listen to your fellow colleagues?" She jumped - nearly breaking my nose in the process - surprised at how close I was. I inadvertently smelt her hair as she flinched; a soft, delicate scent, not too unlike that of the jasmine that we had added to the Invisibility Potion.

Pétale whirled around, and stood facing me, with a knowing little smile on her pixyish face. "I've finally figured you out _Professor,_" she sneered.

"Oh really?" I replied with equal scorn. "Then undoubtedly you will have also discovered that I treasure my nose and would resent it being harmed by an over-excited gnome?"

She nodded wisely, knowingly. "Yes I have. I've finally realised why you're so mean."

"Oh, do share your wisdom with me? Or do you believe that I am not worthy of it?"

She remained silent, smiling sweetly. _I don't like this, _I thought to myself. _Why is she saying nothing? Must be another plan of hers._

I arched a sceptical eyebrow, subtly moving closer to her, so I could intimidate her by towering over her '_fair, bonny head._' "So you have finally figured out the mysteries of my dark soul?" I asked scornfully.

"Yes I have," she repeated.

I stared at her, waiting. "And?"

"And what?" she said turning towards a potion that was brewing to her left, and stirring it gently.

"And you will not impart even a little of your surreal wisdom - using the melodic music that is your voice - upon the poor mortal who doth stand and wait for even a shred of your unearthly knowledge?" I replied, sneering with all the cold iciness I possessed.

She flushed again.

"I see, I have touched a sore nerve, fair maiden?" I purred, enjoying the all too palatable awkwardness that she was exhibiting. "Your tongue, beautiful temptress, speaks not?" My voice was a barely audible murmur - seductive and potent.

When still she remained silent, I spoke up sharply. "What is the matter with you woman? Forgot how to speak? Give me some sign and let me rejoice in the fact that the great Ms Black has finally been silenced!"

Finally turning from the cauldron, she looked upon me with evident pity. "Ah Snape, Snape, Snape…" shaking her head, she resumed her dawdling.

_Petty creature! Foolish fairy! Impregnable imp! How dare she! _

"When you feel that the cauldron – and the vastly complex process of boiling water – does not require your attention any further, and that I am finally worthy of your notice, do call. Be prepared also, to be ignored. In the meanwhile, I shall be gathering a few things together," I said icily, and turned to go.

"Wait!" she called after me.

I paused.

"The real reason, Severus Snape, why your bedside manner is appallingly lame is that… you've never been loved."

I stiffened.

Her voice was quiet as she spoke. "I sat down yesterday, and I thought. I thought to myself: how on earth is it possible that someone as young as you, as young as myself in fact, is so unfriendly, so sarcastic… and aloof? And I reached the inevitable conclusion: poor Snape. He's never been loved before. He's never loved."

What on earth could I say? What was there to say? Deep down, I recognised the truth of her words. And deep down, I repressed that truth. It was thoughts like these that drove people crazy. And I would have none of it.

So I turned around to face her, with my usual scornful mask… betraying nothing.

"When you are done with your psychological analysis Ms Black, please do inform. It is time we should be going."

But she ignored me. And spoke again: "And you know what Snape? I thought to myself, I thought, how on earth can I make this poor man's life any better? And I reached one conclusion. I realised, that there really was only one way-"

I interrupted her. "Be quiet!" I barked.

Suddenly, without any idea of what I was doing, I had stepped forward and gripped both of her thin arms tightly, and had pulled her to me.

"Snape let go! You're hurting-"

I brought my face close to hers, so close that our noses were almost touching and I stared pitilessly into her eyes. "Be quiet!" I hissed again. "Listen to me. There will be no further talk on this matter, foolish girl! Don't dare to suppose you know anything of me, or my personality, or my thoughts and feelings. Don't dare to pity me. I need no one's pity. I don't need you - or anyone else for that matter - to make my life any better! Stay out of it! You are an idiot, Ms Black, telling a tale that is indeed full of sound and fury… but in the end, as the famous playwright said, you are simply… 'signifying nothing.'"

I was breathing deeply by the time I finished this, filled with a rage I have rarely ever known. Truth hurts sometimes, Headmaster, and this time it did hurt. Agonisingly.

She was looking defiantly into my eyes. "You'll have to hear me first, and then I'll stop talking on the matter. I have decided, Snape, that there really is only one way I can make you any better."

"And what's that?" My voice shook in barely suppressed rage, and I tightened my already vice-like grip on her arms. She didn't flinch.

"I'm going to be your friend."

And then she kissed me.

o.o.o

I couldn't tell you any details even if I wanted to. There was nothing in that kiss. I don't even know if Pétale felt anything. I certainly didn't. It was a meaningless connection. No desire, no passion... and consequently, it meant absolutely nothing. All I realised was that one moment I was furious at this grossly irritating woman, the next that she was kissing me. I felt no desire to continue or prolong the kiss. I felt no desire for any more physical contact. I felt no arousal: either mental or bodily. If I had thought that I was angry before, it was absolutely nothing compared to what I felt when I pushed her away.

I couldn't form words strong enough to describe the loathing I felt for this interfering woman. "You- You-" I wiped my mouth with my hand, trying to eradicate any taste of her.

Pétale had flushed. Her eyes were animated and bright, there were red patches on her cheeks, her lips were reddened and slightly apart, and there was almost a dazed look on her face, giving her the overall impression of a very, very confused and embarrassed person.

"Before I decide to press any charges for sexual assault, physical harassment and mental damage, I suggest you explain yourself, woman!"

She remained silent.

I looked at her puzzled face, her speechless mouth, her strangely befuddled expression and said as nastily as I could: "If you want to come with me, be in the atrium in twenty minutes, near the fountain. Good day."

And with that I stalked out, leaving my assailant as silent as a statue.

o.o.o

Why twenty minutes you ask, Headmaster? I didn't really have anything to do in that time. But I needed some moments to collect my thoughts; to collect myself and to steel myself against any more emotional intrusions like the ones I had just suffered. I put on my travelling cloak, fastened my wand to the inside of my robes, made sure I had plenty of money, and concealed a few potions secretly in my sleeves; I felt that if there was an emergency, they could be useful. With fifteen minutes still to go, I was stalking from side to side in front of the fountain, deep in thought.

_I have to get away from this woman... she'll drive me absolutely insane if I'm in her company any longer. But where to...? Maybe I could ask Dumbledore for a job at Hogwarts. Or maybe I'll move to a foreign country and find something to do there. Whatever I do, I'll have to do it soon... I can't abide by the immorality of this Ministry, of my work and most of all... I cannot stand that woman!_

"Well, look who it is. Hello... _Severus_..."

It was a moment before I registered this. Looking up, I inwardly groaned. The person I last wanted to see in the world was standing in front of me, wearing an extremely arrogant smile, with his arms folded in front of him. His voice had been a purr.

In our school days, I would have whipped out my wand and attempted to defend myself - I say attempted because more often than not, his friends would have been with him, stopping me from performing any counter-curses - from the curses that he would be undoubtedly aiming at me. Now, irritated and furious, I did nothing of the sort. I simply... adopted a sarcastic smile that fairly screamed my desire to be left alone.

"Black." I nodded in acknowledgement, and then turned to leave.

Perhaps he wasn't expecting me to stay calm and collected. I could tell he was surprised when he said: "What are you doing here Snape?"

This time I couldn't help sneering icily at him. "You seriously believe that I would ever tell you my business?"

"Still the same arrogance eh Snape?"

I laughed outright. "I'm assuming you made the successful transition into adulthood? Or are you really going to get upset because I was _mean_ to you?"

I could tell that Black was getting angry. The sight didn't scare me one bit. In fact, I started to enjoy myself. I turned back towards him.

"Might I ask what brings _you_ _here?_"

"No you may not."

"I rather thought you would be gallivanting around with Potter? But... as you will Black." Once again, I turned to leave.

Apparently, Black must have wanted to converse with me more desperately than I previously imagined, because he called to me once again: "I heard you became an Unspeakable Snape?"

I remained silent, neither denying nor acknowledging the question.

"So what do you do?" I could hear obvious curiosity in his voice. I didn't really blame him. Everyone was curious about what went on in the Department of Mysteries.

"I'm afraid Black, that even if I _wanted_ to tell you - which I most assuredly iterate that I would not - I could not disclose any information regarding my work. Hence the word: 'unspeakable.' I thought the ideology would have been rather glaringly obvious... Surprisingly, I was mistaken. But I must ask you another question: are you even employed?" The sneer laced behind my icy facade was all too evident.

Black glared at me. "I'm warning you Snape-"

"Oh spare me the old threats Black. They didn't scare me then, they don't scare me now. I suppose you managed to miss the fact that we are standing in a government building with security wizards watching our every move?"

"Funny you say that, actually," he snarled stepping closer to me, his eyes blazing. "You weren't so confident when you were hanging upside down in midair."

I snorted. "Come now Black. Surely you do not think your are any mightier because you managed to disable an unprepared individual with your friends watching every move made to jump in and help you if that unprepared individual made even the slightest attempt to retaliate? Surely you recognise the concept of one-on-one?"

His hand itched towards his wand. "What are you saying... _Snivellus?_"

I pretended to contemplate for one second what I already knew I was going to say. "What am I saying? Why I suppose I'm saying that it's all very well to consider yourself a wonderful wizard when you've got your bunch of fellow Gryffindors to back you up. It's an entirely different thing to earn that title... honourably, in fair one-on-one combat."

"Honour?" He barked loudly. "What do you know of honour, you filthy Slytherin?"

I lazily inspected my fingernails. "And yet again Black you have predictably fallen into the same trap. You honestly believe that all Slytherins are dishonourable, traitorous cut-throats."

"Give me one example Snape, of a Slytherin-"

"Horace Slughorn, Phineas Nigellus, Bella Marchbanks, Drusilla Shacklebolt, Alera Wolf-"

He held up his hand to stop my flow.

I curled my upper lip in scorn. "And aside from all those, your dear family..."

He stiffened, and then whipped out his wand.

"If we weren't standing in the Ministry of Magic, you would be dead by now Black," I whispered coldly.

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? And I suppose you think you're a match for me?"

This time I laughed loudly. "Think? No... I don't think I'm a match for you. I _know_ that I am _more_ than a match."

"I doubt that Snivelly... I doubt that..."

I silkily turned from him, dismissing him. "Resorting to name-calling Black? Do you know your name is synonymous with the Dog Star?"

"Better that than Severus Snape…" he snarled.

I bowed to him in mockery. "Surely Black... but no, even you cannot be _that_ arrogant to not know that all those curses you used against me were my very own inventions? Surely you realise that if you didn't have Potter and your gang to support you - a case of one against four if you will - I could have cursed the living daylights out of you with my eyes closed? Do you really think that the extent of my spells was to hang someone in midair by their feet? Surely you didn't think that?"

"Snivel-"

I interrupted him, calling over my shoulder as I walked away. "Goodbye Black. I hope I never see you again. In the meantime, don't aggravate me or I might _accidentally_ throw the bottle of poison I _accidentally _happen to have in my robes at you... and then where would your good Black looks be? Oh... and _Happy_ Christmas."

I could tell he was going to shout something at me, but at that moment he was called away by a wizard in blue robes. In the meantime, my good mood fully restored, I turned to sweep my gaze over the atrium to find the little creature who would be my companion on the trip I was about to undertake.

o.o.o

I think I might have sped on too quickly. I finished last by telling you that we had received another set of instructions. I have absolutely no idea what was in these instructions. I've tried very hard to remember Headmaster but I cannot. I suspect some Memory Charm was placed on me to suppress this particular memory. Whatever it was, it was probably an extremely heinous thing, and the fact that it _has_ been wiped from my memory suggests that, if publicly known, it would be extremely embarrassing for the Ministry. What puzzles me is why the whole series of events following these instructions were not destroyed from my memory. I suspect that they were either too large or complicated to be erased. Or perhaps they _were_ erased but not very well, so, what with my rather incredible mental abilities, I could have easily reconstructed these memories.

Whatever the cause, the fact that I can easily recall the consequences of these instructions gives me a fairly good idea of what the Ministry was trying to do. And heinous it most certainly was. But first, let me take you back.

o.o.o

I stood waiting, with my jaw clenched tightly, tapping my foot on the ground in impatience, as I waited for the woman to decide. I had found Pétale near the fountains five minutes ago. Any mention of what had taken place not more than half an hour ago was mutually avoided. She was avoiding my eyes.

"Really woman! Does it take your whole undivided attention to decide whether to use the Floo Network or to simply apparate?" I paused, thinking. "In fact… why am I even asking you? Come, let us go. We shall apparate."

"No… Snape. Let's use the Floo Network."

I sighed. "Finally, she speaks. No we cannot use the Floo Network. I assure you."

"Why not?"

"Well, why don't you try? I assure you if you appear without warning in a fireplace in Knockturn Alley, you would be immediately cursed by the proprietors. Most of them dabble in the Dark Arts and they wouldn't want everybody and their second cousins popping in whenever they see fit. Aside from this, they probably have charms on their fireplaces preventing from uninvited visitors… _visiting_. Besides, do you have a problem with apparating?"

She reddened, sighed, shook her head and looking away, said. "Alright, where should we apparate to?"

"Well, well… fancy the talented Ms Black having problems with apparition," I sneered.

"Do you like criticising people Snape?" she snapped.

"Intensely," I replied silkily. "On the count of three then. One, two-"

Before I'd finished she'd already disappeared with a loud _crack_. I sighed, rolled my eyes in exasperation at the little minx and followed suit.

o.o.o

I appeared at the head of Knockturn Alley across from Gringotts. There were four goblins on either side of the large entrance to the Wizard Bank, all in full Goblin Armour that not even a powerful curse could penetrate. This – and Hogwarts – were the safest locations in the whole of Britain. And no wonder. These Goblins were not afraid of cursing – quite literally – anyone who stepped out of line or behaved suspiciously. At the moment, I could see them refusing entrance to that idiot Mundungus Fletcher, who was protesting loudly at being forbidden access to a site that he was, in most probability, planning to steal from.

_Pathetic creature. _I thought viciously. _I hate thieves._

I looked around for Pétale and found her standing a few feet away from me. I waited for her to come to me, but she remained where she was. _What was the matter with the foolish woman?_

Walking towards her, I realised she wasn't moving. And I as did so, I realised something else. And immediately, a huge, delighted smile split my face. "Well, well, well… little Miss Perfect has gone and got herself splinched!"

She glared at me, unable to move.

"What part, my dear?" I sneered.

"_Shut up Snape! It's my… my…_"I could hear her embarrassment even in my head. As I looked at her, she coloured.

"Your what exactly? I'm not a mind- Oh but wait," I grinned vindictively, "I am…" Immediately, I entered her thoughts. She reddened further.

I spluttered. "I cannot believe you left your… your…"

"_Shut up Snape… just fix me…_" she thought ferociously.

"Well that's the problem Ms Black. I'm not sure I can. I think I might have to call the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad to get you out of this mess," I said with exaggerated concern. _Why not? _I thought to myself. _I need a little amusement. _I myself could detect the clearly audible enjoyment in my voice. I moved closer to her, totally oblivious of anyone else, until my lips were almost touching her ear.

"Why Ms Black, when I discovered that you had problems with apparition, I didn't realise that you were an amateur!"

"_Please Snape… I'm begging you; I know you know how to make me whole. Please, I'm serious…_"

I paused. There was something in her tone. "Very well." I waved my wand and muttered a few spells. Immediately, the cloak across her chest bulged slightly. I smiled and said: "But my dear Ms Black, I see no difference."

She flushed red, and turned to lead the way into Knockturn Alley. As she did so, she swayed and started to fall backwards, straight into me. I caught her, instinctively, unconsciously, catching her with my arms and staggering backwards a few steps.

Of course, I should have known. "Splinching causes temporary loss of balance and stability…" I muttered, holding her for a few seconds until she could regain herself, sufficiently.

I could hear her gently moaning.

And amidst all this, no one had noticed. The war had hardened everyone. They cared for nothing but their own safety. Self-preservation… what did they care if someone was collapsing a few feet from them?

I could smell her hair again. The same jasmine-like scent. The scent softened me somewhat. For the first time, I felt a twinge of pity for the little woman. I sighed.

"Are you to interfere with everything I do, Ms Black?" I muttered into her ear, and then scooped her up in my arms. She weighed like a child, and fitted easily in my arms. Holding her to me, I started towards Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour – the closest _respectable_ establishment – all too aware of the gentle weight of her head on my shoulder, and of the heat from her little body as she cradled against me, unconscious of what she was doing in her weakness.

As I moved towards the parlour, I looked down at my shoulder and beheld a mane of brown hair, partially shielding her face, and spread over my chest. From what little I could see of her face, a suspicion began to grow in my mind. She was looking flushed, her lips were parted, and there was a dazed expression about her eyes. I had only seen her like this when she had kissed me.

_It seems like she's a- But no! She can't be a-_

At that moment she stirred and readjusted herself more comfortable, putting an arm around my neck. The action, although trivial enough, sent a shiver up my spine. I quickened my pace to put her down as soon as possible. _Why am I feeling this way? _I thought. _She's an irritating, annoying girl… then why…?_

And the smell from her hair was driving me insane. Why was it so… so… beautiful? Such a feminine, soft scent – a smell that fully encapsulated the divine feminine… I shuddered. _Enough, Severus… no more! _But the thought still remained. I felt like burying my head in that mane of soft-smelling hair.

Finally reaching the parlour, I set her down on a table in a shady corner.

"Ms Black," I said sharply, "I shall be back in one moment."

She nodded gently, absent-mindedly, her eyelids half-closed.

I moved away to locate the proprietors.

"Ah Florean…" I muttered at the comely looking woman, standing behind a desk.

She smiled in delight. "Severus… you don't come here any more…"

I shrugged, embarrassed. "Busy…"

I liked this woman. She was nice, had always been nice to me, but wasn't overly curious like most nice people are. She immediately recognised my wish to remain private and to keep my own business to myself, and said: "What can I do for you Sevy?"

I grimaced. Whatever I said, the woman would not stop calling me that. "Just two chocolate ice-creams Florean. In bowls. And make sure there's plenty." She nodded and set to work. I started to walk back to my table.

And that's when it happened. That's when my _whole_ life changed.


	6. 6

Disclaimer: The author of this fanfiction is in no way connected with or endorsed by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, Bloomsbury Publishing or Warner Bros and does not wish to make any sort of profit from this fanfiction. Ownership to characters in the Harry Potter books is neither claimed nor implied. All original content and material belongs to the author of this fanfiction and so therefore any reproduction of this text without the author's consent is prohibited.

Chapter 6

"You said that you have never experienced a thunderbolt, Headmaster. Let me tell you from the onset then, that my words cannot even begin to describe the emotional experience that I underwent. I said before that a thunderbolt is a terrible thing... but I would be lying to myself if I truly believed that. For I do not think, nor believe that a thunderbolt is terrible. I believe it is one of the most wonderful, the most beautiful and the loveliest experiences that one can have.

What exactly is a thunderbolt, you might ask? I've had time to find that out. I've read books and ancient manuscripts on the subject. So let me tell you: in short, a thunderbolt is no less than a complete connection with another person. To look at it from a rational point of view, I suppose it is a truly fascinating and singular occurrence. For there are some who would not be afraid to use the thunderbolt to their advantages... for its power and intensity _can_ be used for terrible thing. Anyhow, that is something for another time.

Let me explain _my_ experience; let me elaborate.

Everyone on this planet, every man, every woman, is born to be with another person. Each person has a soul mate - another human being that is made for them. Each person compliments his or her soul mate perfectly. Without his or her soul mate, a person is incomplete. More often than not, these two souls never meet; thus it is rare for a thunderbolt to happen. But when the two souls, the two persons meet each other, an amazing thing occurs. A most ancient and powerful connection between the two is initiated. They are struck - no more, no less - by a thunderbolt. Once the connection is established, those two souls cannot be forcefully parted, for the need they feel for each other is immense; it is eternal and it is great. It cannot be harmed, stopped or destroyed. Another more rudimentary term for this is "love at first sight" but that concept is misleading. A thunderbolt can occur between two people who have known each other for years; indeed, it will only occur when both souls start realising that there is something special about the other.

And indeed, I had started to realise this about Pétale in the first moments I met her. I knew that there was something unplaceable about her. Almost as if I'd met her somewhere before. But then, the fights, the arguments, the petty squabbles had kept me from feeling anything further than irritation and anger for her.

Why I am telling you all of this Headmaster? Why indeed?

I know this: I will never share my past with anyone else, for the rest of my life. It will be a secret; these memories that I am telling you will be guarded by me, close to my heart, as a treasure. I shall take this treasure to the grave with me. Am I doomed to live a dark, lonely life? So be it. I do not care. But I owe it to myself... and to her... to at least share my memories with one other person, so that even if I die, what happened will live on in your mind... for a thunderbolt... is a rare thing.."

o.o.o

Dumbledore had been listening with a rapt attention. He blinked several times to bring himself back to the present.

"Severus... I did not know..." he said, repeating his words from earlier on in the evening. Snape had stood up and had been speaking - for the past ten minutes or so - from the window. He was gazing out at the night sky. It was a clear night, no clouds, and so the stars and the majestic moon were perfectly visible to the naked eye. He stood gazing at the spectacles of the heavens, his eyes betraying - for one of the very few and last times of his life - the sadness that he had suffered..

"Where is Ms Black now?" Dumbledore whispered gently.

Snape turned to gaze at the old man, and then looked up at the heavens once again. Sighing, he went back to his seat. "Where indeed?" he whispered, and then resumed his story.

o.o.o

"As I walked back from Madam Florean, I was struck - fiercely, inevitably - by the thunderbolt. And I experienced my fist Perfect Moment.

This memory, which I had all but laid to rest refused to lie still when you mentioned perfect moments. I don't suppose I'll ever be able to suppress it...

I had left Pétale sitting alone at a table in the corner of the parlour. I was walking back to her when it happened. Just as I caught sight of her, I stumbled on a wet patch on the floor. Even before I regained my balance I knew she was looking at me. And as I looked back towards her, a curious sensation fell upon my whole being. I felt like I had fallen from a great height and had knocked all the air from my lungs, because try as I might, I couldn't seem to be able to breathe. Not that it mattered. That was the last thing I was concerned about. Surprisingly enough, I felt no warnings of impending unconsciousness.

I stopped. Time stopped. It seemed as though everything that had been happening around me had suddenly ceased to be. All the waiters and customers... they simply seemed to vanish. And as I realised this, I also found that my whole soul, my very being was focusing intensely towards that one little person sitting a few metres away from me; she herself was looking at me with such awe-inspiring intensity that I knew the wonder was mirrored in my own gaze.

And then came the revelation. Then indeed came the revelation! "Love" doesn't even come close to describing what I was experiencing! Love is a word, Headmaster. A mere word. Like lust, like passion, like desire, like obsession... what are these but mere trifles? They cannot even begin to describe the actual emotion, the actual feeling, the actual desire... What I felt towards that little creature - that Pétale - was not _love_. There is no word to describe what I felt. You could only fully understand what I am trying to say if you had experienced it yourself. However let me continue. I felt like this creature sitting in front of me was _mine_. I felt like she belonged to me. In fact, I knew she belonged to me. I knew that if she ever went from me my heart would break. I knew that if she went away, I would die.

And suddenly, another huge revelation came crashing down upon me.

I felt that I had known her for all eternity. I felt like I knew the innermost corner of her soul, of her being. And I knew that if ever she left me, if ever she betrayed me, she herself would die; her heart, too, would be broken. And I felt this blind... this blind obsession that she should never be away fro me. That if I ever saw another man even so much as smile at her, then I could not be held responsible for what I did to that man.

And then, the third and final revelation came. I realised that I could _feel her_. I realised that she was experiencing what I was feeling. I realised that she was seeing in my eyes, in my being, what I was seeing in hers. And not only that, but I could almost see her vitality; her aliveness in front of me. I could almost see rays of light pouring forth from her good, pure little heart, and I was genuinely humbled.

To an outsider, this extremely personal experience may seem a little terrifying. The intensity of the obsession, the strength of the desire... but to the two people involved, it was indeed one of the most amazing things in the whole world.

And all this occurred in one moment. But it didn't feel like a moment. It felt like an eternity. An eternity where I was so perfectly in tune with her, with the world that I felt like I could feel almost everything happening in the universe. And that, Headmaster, was the most alive moment of my entire life.

o.o.o

And what do you imagine happened next? Do you think I swept her off her feet and asked her to marry me? Do you think I carried her off to make sweet love? Or do you think we sat there looking into each other's eyes like love-sick dogs? Well, let me put you at rest by saying that nothing of that sort happened.

One of the biggest misconceptions about the thunderbolt is that it creates love between the two involved. Let me put that myth to complete rest. Nothing of that sort happens. The only example of love being created out of thin air is that of the love that members of the same family feel for each other. A mother for her child; a father for his child; a brother for his sister and vice versa. There are many examples, of course, where members of the same family do _not _share any love. An example: our dear Black and his parents. Otherwise, love is never created. It is changed into love from hate or dislike, or it grows from misunderstandings or jealousy. In our case it was no different.

Soul mate... the term... I find it vulgar. It is like trying to describe the sun as "bright," or the universe as "large." It doesn't do full justice to what actually happens. Pétale was my _soul_ mate, if you will. We had shared a thunderbolt; a perfect moment. We could not be apart. But did that make me in love with her? Absolutely not. Let me remind you that two things that need each other do not necessarily have to possess a liking or attraction for the other.

How on earth should I explain this unearthly experience in earthly terms and phrases? Imagine if you will, Headmaster, two people. Each person possesses a part of the other. Quite literally. Once they know this fact, once that surreal connection has been formed, they cannot live without each other. They cannot bear to be apart. But that does _not_ mean that they are in love. It does not mean that at all.

So Pétale was the same woman to me. Albeit a woman I knew I couldn't bear to be apart from; a woman I couldn't see in the arms of another; a woman I would willingly die a thousand times to protect. But she was still also that woman with the same irritating habits; the argumentative nature...

Enough! Back to that moment when the effects of the thunderbolt diminished; back to that moment where I staggered forward and sank to that chair besides her; back to that woman when I saw her head fall into her arms, and her shoulders start to tremble...

o.o.o

"Here you are my dears," Madam Florean said cheerfully, in a bright voice as she placed two large bowls of chocolate ice-cream in front of us. Pétale still had her head in her arms, and the comely lady looked with concern at her. I caught her eye and muttered: "Could you leave us please Madam Florean?"

She looked doubtful, opened her mouth, thought better of it and then left.

I waited several moments for my companion to start on her ice-cream. When she didn't, I took a tentative bite, felt I couldn't bear to have any after what had just passed, and pushed the plate away from me, and sat with my hands folded on the table in front of me.

Suddenly, she raised her head, covering her eyes with her hand and said in a muffled voice: "What happened Snape?"

I was in no mood for any theatrics and so replied simply and quietly: "You do not know?" But of course, I knew she knew. Who didn't know the thunderbolt? When she remained silent I carried on: "It was a thunderbolt."  
She moaned - the sound cut through to my heart - and then stood up still not looking at me.

"I need... I need... some time alone."

I stood up as well, placing a few coins on the table, and then led her out. "Where do you wish to go?"

"Home," she replied, her voice trembling. I could tell she was swaying and stepped to take her arm. "Don't- don't- Just take me home..."

I stepped back. "Very well. We will have to use Side-Along Apparition. You are in no state to apparate alone. Hold my arm tightly and concentrate on where you house is." My voice was hoarse and weak.

She gripped my arm and screwed her eyes shut, her face devastatingly pale. For a moment I looked into her face; for a moment all I could feel was the heat from the little hand that gripped my arm. But then, I mentally shook myself and forced myself to concentrate. I delved gently into her mind and found the image of her house; I focused, and in a moment we were there.

It was a quiet street. Calm, tranquil. We stood in front of a small house - no doubt enchanted to appear smaller than it was - with a neat garden. Without a word, she left my arm and walked quickly towards it, unhooking the clasp of the gate lading up the path to the front door. With each step she took, I felt a great wrenching, as if pieces were being torn from me. Quietly, she closed the gate, and again, without looking at me, made her way slowly up the path. I turned to go, my heart feeling like it would tear to bits. I knew - I felt - that she was feeling just like me; I knew she must be feeling as if her very being was being torn into two. Just as she turned to knock at the door however, she paused and I turned to look at her again. Slowly she turned to look at me, her large eyes brimming with tears, her small face pale, her lower lip trembling. Suddenly, I received a burst of emotion from her: anger, desperation, desire, compassion...

We stood there, gazing at each other for what seemed like a long time. And then suddenly, she turned unable to stand any longer, and fled into her home.

I turned to go back to _my_ house - my lonely, dark house. Knockturn Alley all but forgotten. I looked forward to nothing but two weeks - for the Christmas and New Year holidays began tomorrow - of loneliness, of despair... two weeks of a heart as heavy as lead, and two weeks of constantly seeing a small figure of a young woman in my mind... with whom I had shared my first and only Perfect Moment.


	7. 7

Disclaimer: The author of this fanfiction is in no way connected with or endorsed by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, Bloomsbury Publishing or Warner Bros and does not wish to make any sort of profit from this fanfiction. Ownership to characters in the Harry Potter books is neither claimed nor implied. All original content and material belongs to the author of this fanfiction and so therefore any reproduction of this text without the author's consent is prohibited.

Chapter 7

"Perhaps I should be telling you why we were going to Knockturn Alley. To do so, however, I will have to share with you a secret - information so classified that only a few select wizards and witches in the world's governments know this - that has been hidden for centuries. Let me warn you from the onset: if the Ministry knows that I am sharing this information with you, we will both spend the rest of our lives in Azkaban. While I am sure you may be capable of breaking out, Headmaster, I am not so fortunate, and so I do not need to tell you to treat this with the utmost secrecy.

The ultimate aspiration of the wizarding race is thus: to conquer death. It is an extremely foolish wish. Dangerous as well. We wizards have all too well learnt what happens when the natural order of things is inverted. Nature posses a magic that is so powerful and stable that the greatest among us can only look on in wonder. To meddle with nature is to meddle with one's own destruction. To conquer, prolong or altogether stop death - perhaps it can be achieved, perhaps it cannot - is a dangerous thing. Not only because it can fall into the wrong hands, but because, if not done properly, it can have devastating consequences. I shall explain that in a moment.

A few hundred years ago, the greatest learning centre for potion-making was Arabia.

Arabic wizards discovered - after years of searching and experimentation - a certain ingredient. This ingredient - the name, nature or properties of which is unknown - when mixed with a certain combination of other ingredients produced a most singular potion. A potion which simultaneously had the power of Unicorn Blood, of Phoenix Tears, of the Elixir of Life... in effect, a potion which had great healing powers and the potency to prolong life and to bring back a person from the edge of death. Not only this, this potion had one other amazing quality. It possessed the potency to - no more, no less - bring back a person from death; to, in short, make a dead person come alive.

And here we face our first problem. Muggles grasp this concept better than wizards and witches do; the soul is not an object to be controlled at will. It is at once, a most beautiful and potentially terrible thing, and is incredibly magically powerful. It is a terrible thing to say, but if the power of the soul were fully harnessed... but no, I shudder to even think about the possibilities that could occur. Little is known on the subject, but what I can say with absolute certainty is that when the soul leaves a human body, it's natural inclination is to travel onto the next world; the higher plane. I cannot say with certainty what exactly this is. However, a soul, even though truly gone from this world still has an unbreakable connection with its former body. After much thinking, I have realised that if the potion were successfully made, then it would use this connection to bring the soul back to its body. But, the huge, the terrifying question always remains: is it possible that something other than the desired soul could cross over to our world? Or something could perhaps cross over _with_ the soul? I do not know. I do not _wish_ to know. This potion should never be made.

If people consider Voldemort to be terrible, then they'll be rather rudely awoken if a demon or monster from another world comes knocking on their doorsteps.

But enough. I carry on too much.

As with all great things, some wished to use it in their dark and terrible plans. There were several attempts to learn the secret of this potion and to capture the last remaining collection of it. This was mainly the period of time when the Cruciatus and Imperius curses came into being - as the Arab potion brewers were tortured to try to obtain the way to brew the potion. Many long and gruesome wars followed - termed by the Muggles as the 'Crusades.' However, along with their genius, the Arabic wizards had realised the terrible consequences that their potion could bring. So they hastened to destroy it. The secret of this potion went with them to the grave.

There have, of course, been many recent attempts to duplicate that one, key ingredient that went into the making of this coveted potion. All of these attempts have, of course, been absolutely unsuccessful. A bridge cannot be complete without its centre-stone; similarly this potion cannot be made without that one unknown ingredient. I have had time to think about the components that would be required for this potion, and have reached one conclusion: this ingredient will act simply like a catalyst. It will make all the other reactants work. Without it, it is impossible to make this potion.

Now I mentioned that this whole affair is a secret. Why? Simply this: the secret ingredient, the crucial element needs to be something so immensely powerful, so incredibly magically potent that it can only be one of a very few number of things. Each of those things are either so heinous, so terrible or require something terrible to be committed to obtain them that if it were publicly known there would be outrage; an enormous backlash of anger and fury. An example of a possible thing being the key ingredient is the sacrifice of an innocent life... a child, or Unicorn perhaps.

I am sure you have guessed where I am heading. The Ministry had - I presumed (since I do not remember the specific instructions) - asked us to try to replicate this potion. I am not surprised that my memory was altered; indeed, if it had not, then I would have had the single-handed power to bring the Ministry crashing down onto its self-righteous feet. Some recent research had made the brewing of this potion more possible. I do not remember this research. Once again memory alteration.

Naturally, any ingredients of this potion would have been less than... _respectful_ and so we were to go to Knockturn Alley to secure certain components needed for the potion - which, predictably were removed from my memory.

You may ask why we were complying with the Ministry's requests. The potion was a highly unethical one. And yet, the advantages had to be weighed against the disadvantages. The war was raging all around us; Voldemort was gaining power daily, growing stronger and stronger. Also, his followers were gaining in numbers and strength. I sympathised with the Ministry because I knew that it _had_ to resort to desperate measures to have a chance of defeating the dark side. Having said this, however, I will still maintain that the Dementifying Potion was too much. There is a certain line in potion-making, and if we had made this potion then we would have crossed that line.

Anyhow, suffice to say, I was intrigued by this potion. If it was made, then truly amazing things could happen. The Four Founders of Hogwarts could be resurrected - together more than a match for the Dark Lord and his followers.

o.o.o

"After I left Petale, I went back to my house in Spinner's End I went. I could never call it a home. I, Severus Snape, had never yet had a home. It is a pathetic thing to say, but you cannot miss that which you have never known.

That first night I felt more hopelessly desperate than I had ever yet felt. All the dark and painful memories that I had suppressed came crowding back to me. I tried everything: drink, potions... but nothing worked. My emotions were raw. The thunderbolt had stripped me of all of the defences I had put up to stop myself being a simpering, over-sensitive, self-pitying fool. And so I sat through the night, having the rather irresistible urge to perform a memory charm on myself.

Recalling the two weeks I spent brings back pain.

And so I shall leave any details. I will tell you only this, that I felt miserable. What I can say with absolute certainty is that there was an innermost recess of my being that held a place for Petale. I assumed that there was a similar place in her soul for me. And I knew in my heart that Petale felt miserable as well. At times, it was almost as if I could see what she saw, feel what she felt. It was times like these I could almost reach out and touch her - times like these I wanted to grip her small shoulders and shake her until her teeth rattled for making me feel like an over-emotional teenager.

They were the most difficult and gruesome two weeks of my life.

Christmas passed without any event. I received nothing; nor gave anything. New Years day passed also without any note-worthy occurrence.

Let us now move towards the end of my holidays. Two days before I was to resume work at the Ministry, I took a trip. I had never before done what I was about to do. Indeed... I was going to buy a Christmas gift.

Suffice to say, the intended recipient of my present was - from what I could tell - totally and utterly miserable at the moment. I knew perfectly well what I was going to get her. And to do that, I would have to dress as a Muggle.

o.o.o

So, there I was, a few hours later, standing in front of a large shop in Muggle London. I had donned a large overcoat on top of my robes - it was winter and so I had an excuse - and could just about pass for a suspicious-looking Muggle. I also had a few notes of Muggle money, which I had changed from galleons in the wizard-muggle currency-exchange office in the Ministry.

Taking a deep breath I walked in, and immediately was bombarded with an over-bright, over-enthusiastic young man with astonishingly white teeth.

"Good evening, sir. And how may I help you?"

I nodded my greetings and then said: "Your assistance will not be required any further."

He nodded, still with the same smile, and walked away.

My eyes were drawn towards the gold shimmering and glimmering around me. I stood in a large goldsmith's shop. Immediately, without any further ado, I set about to do my work.

A few hours later, I apparated in front of the house I knew was Petale's. The curtains were drawn, and there was a light on in one of the rooms downstairs. I gently opened the gate and without any sound, proceeded up the path. Gently, I laid down the package I held in my hands. It had a white slip which read thus: "To, Ms Petale Black."

Somehow, I knew she would know it was from me.


	8. 8

Disclaimer: The author of this fanfiction is in no way connected with or endorsed by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, Bloomsbury Publishing or Warner Bros and does not wish to make any sort of profit from this fanfiction. Ownership to characters in the Harry Potter books is neither claimed nor implied. All original content and material belongs to the author of this fanfiction and so therefore any reproduction of this text without the author's consent is prohibited.

Chapter 8

"I stiffened - involuntarily - as the door creaked open and she slipped inside, noiselessly. There was a rustling as she took her outer, travelling robes off, and then silence. It was one of those silences that was so thick that it was almost like it could be cut with a knife. It stretched and expanded until it seemed to grow into something uncomfortable, something huge and awkward.

Finally I heard an exclamation: "I can't take this any longer."

I would have willingly stayed where I was for the rest of the day, but I felt that perhaps it would be wise - and good-mannered - to turn and regale my companion with my attention.

She was loitering beside her desk, twisting a wisp of brown hair with her finger. I could tell that she was, quite obviously, trying to avoid looking at me; her eyes were averted.

I cleared my throat. There was another tense silence.

And then finally: "It was you, wasn't it?" We were - as usual when in the Department of Mysteries - talking via our minds.

"I don't understand,"

"Oh stop pretending Snape. You know perfectly well what I'm talking about," she snapped.

As chance would have it, I _didn't_ know what she was talking about. I said as much. "I do not understand quite what you are accusing me of."

She looked up, judged I was telling the truth, and then quickly looked away again. I felt slightly annoyed.

"I do assure you, that you won't vanish into thin air by looking at me."

She ignored me. I sighed, turning to get back to my work, not in the mood for an argument.

"The package."

And finally, I understood. "Ah."

"It _was_ from you wasn't it?"

I hesitated, and then not looking at _her_, I said: "Yes."

Suddenly, I heard her bang her fists onto the table. "What... what in the _world_ prompted you to send me something like that Snape?"

It was the way she said it, I suppose. It was the way she said it that made me realise why she would find what I had sent her inappropriate.

"I'm sorry, but I can't accept it."

The blood pounded in my ears; for perhaps the first time in my life... I flushed.

I could hear her marching towards me. And then she stopped a few feet from me, as if I would bite if she got too close, and she held her hand out. And in her hand, I recognised what had been in the package that I had sent her.

It was a locket. Pure gold. But I hadn't picked it because it was _'pretty.' _The gold chain held an emerald snake. I had made particularly sure that the snake wasn't in the least way frightening or intimidating. It was a small serpent, curled in the form of the letter 's.'

I looked dispassionately at her. "Surely... surely... you are not giving me back something that I gave to you as a... _gift?_" I was genuinely incredulous.

I saw her face flush and the sight satisfied me. It reassured me that despite what had happened, she was still the same woman... just as I was the same man. And yet, I knew in my heart of hearts, that after the thunderbolt... we _weren't_ the same.

"Why... why did you give it to me?" she asked, once again looking away. I noted that she had stopped holding the locket out to me, and instead held it by her side.

"Tell me this, Ms Black," she flinched as I said her name, "why do _you_ think I gave it to you?" I sneered.

"I don't know Snape. That's why I asked _you_," her tone suggested that she was talking to a child.

I continued my smirking, fully enjoying my arrogance. "After what happened, two weeks ago, you will undoubtedly have realised that we are..." My lip curled in dispassion, as I continued the sentence: "... soul mates?"

She jumped slightly as I said the words. I could tell that she was shocked. _Perhaps she didn't know? _I though. _Well... she does now._

Her face had turned pale again. "Snape, don't you dare- If you think I'm going to..." I could tell she was angry - and yet what had I done?

I held my hand up to quieten her. "Listen to me carefully Ms Black. I shall say this only once. What we experienced was the thunderbolt. We are _soul _mates. This means nothing to me. Yes, I realise that unfortunately you will be always be a part of my life. I realise that our imminent parting will be... mutually painful. However, I do not think that without time our condition will not improve."

Her face, flushed again, had resumed an icy expression.

I continued: "I also realise, that if you were to be harmed, I would myself suffer the consequences, and vice versa."

"You've still not told me anything about the locket."

"I'm coming to that, impatient girl. And it's not a _locket! _Or at least, its much more than that. Hold the snake close to your mouth and say clearly and concisely: 'Salazar.'"

I could see her looking at me like I was mentally unbalanced..

The sight made me furious. We had experienced the _thunderbolt_... I was _not_ going to harm her. "Just do it," I said with clenched lips.

She did. And as soon as the word left her mouth, the snake came alive in her hands. She gasped and jumped backwards. I stepped forward and caught her wrist to stop her falling down. The snake, in the meantime, had started to writhe and it split in half horizontally, and one half moved off the other half, coming to rest at the head of the other, so it seemed as if the snake had grown twice in length - albeit with its body split in half.

Anyhow, I had applied an Enlargement Charm to the inside of the snake. The hollow insides of the two half snakes were full of tiny little bottles.

"In case you find yourself in an emergency," I said. "Felix Felicis, different antidotes, Phoenix tears and other things. The bottles are marked. Simply say 'Grffindor' to bring the two halves together."

She did so, and once again, the golden chain held a fully formed snake.

There was another silence, and then I heard her voice in my mind again: "But why?"

"Because of the connection we have; if you are hurt, I shall feel pain also. If you are _seriously_ hurt, I shall feel a _lot_ of pain. And if you die, then I will feel... agony, I suppose. So these are little measures to make sure you do not get hurt, or do not die."

She snorted. "So the only reason you gave me this was so that _you_ didn't get hurt?"

I smiled warmly at her. "Precisely. You have hit the proverbial nail rights on its proverbial head. I told you did I not, that the only person you can rely on in this world is yourself? As such, it is advisable to cater for one's needs and safety first and foremost."

She looked unbelievingly at me. "You still hold faith with your twisted philosophy?"

I replied icily: "Perhaps my philosophy _is_ twisted, but it has served me well so far. Thus, I see no reason to change it."

"Not even after you've experienced a thunderbolt?" she asked quietly.

I stiffened. "Just what is that supposed to mean?" I whispered, equally quiet. "Do you think that our having experienced the thunderbolt changes anything?"

I looked at her, my eyes blazing. Didn't she understand? "Don't you understand Ms Black? Maybe in an ideal world... but no. I won't even go into all of that. Just what exactly do you think I should do?"

She looked me up and down, and then replied quietly: "Nothing. I don't expect you to do anything Snape." She turned to go.

I barked a short, bitter laugh. "This is perfect is it not?"

"What do you mean?" she called over her shoulder.

I sighed. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

I heard her turned back and come to me "Listen Snape, you're the one who doesn't want anything to do with what we've experienced, and now you want _me_ to tell you how I feel?"

I could hear her huff in disbelief. And then she said: "And I refuse to believe that!"

I threw up my hands in exasperation. "Believe what?"

"That you could be so selfish!"

"Selfish?"

"With the locket."

I smiled coldly. "Believe it Ms Black. As much as it may anger you to know, I do not wish for this thunderbolt business to hinder my career or get in the way of my life."

"Likewise," she replied icily.

"And you don't see me complaining. At least I had the decency to _get_ you a gift. Your first words to me after seeing me after Christmas and New Year were: 'I can't take this anymore.'

She glared at me. "Oh do pardon me, Snape. I didn't get you a Christmas present. I was at home totally miserable because of the way _you _made me feel!"

"You're raving mad, woman! If you think that I had any responsibility for the thunderbolt, you're mistaken. Besides... why would I do it with _you?_"

"You don't like me too much then, eh Snape?" she snapped. "Don't want to be around me? Can't stand my company? Think _'Ms Black'_ is not worthy of the company of the honourable Severus Snape? Well you won't have to put up for long; in fact, I shall be leaving soon."

I was momentarily stunned. A small, tinny voice in my head exclaimed _'No!' _All I could manage to say was: "What?"

"I'm leaving. I talked to the Ministress this morning before coming and told her frankly that I couldn't work here any longer. She was _very_ understanding and granted me permission to leave after this week."

The thought of Pétale leaving had sent a spurt of inexplicable panic through me. I shook it off - along with the fresh pangs of heartache and said simply: "Well I hope you enjoy your next job." My voice was low, quiet and serious.

She nodded her acknowledgment (she herself looking slightly faint) and went back to her desk.

It was only a moment before I asked: "Where... where are you going to go?"

"Abroad." I could hear a tight constriction in her voice, even though we were communicating using thoughts. I didn't turn around but I knew that her eyes were brimming with tears.

"Ah."

Another silence.

And then: "But why?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Why are you leaving?"

"Because I don't like brewing unethical potions. I don't like brewing things that are highly controversial, that use terrible ingredients... And I can't work around y-"

I could tell what she was going to say.

"I'm sorry... I shouldn't have-"

I held up a hand. I imagine it shook. _I_ was shaking. I would rather have two weeks alone with my misery, than stand in front of this woman - with my heart in her hands (although I didn't know this then nor would I admit it) to do with as she pleased - telling me that she couldn't bear to work with me. We had shared the thunderbolt and she was telling me she didn't want to wok around me? The little wretch!  
I was hit by the huge realisation that for the first time in my life, I was genuinely hurt at not being wanted.

"Say no more," I said, trying to sound uncaring. The actual effect was anything but. "I imagine you will wish to stay at the Ministry today?"

She surprised me by saying: "No. I'm coming with you."

"You are?"

"Of course. My job doesn't end for a few days. I'm not going to sit here and be bored."

"Very well."

"Why... don't want me to go? Still worried about my safety?" I could hear the mocking tone in her voice.

"You wish," I murmured absent-mindedly, pouring a few drops of water into a silver-coloured potion.

Finishing my work, I turned to look at her. She was writing something on a piece of parchment, her hair falling in front of her, covering her face.

"Are _you_ still trying to be my friend?" I asked quietly.

She looked up, colouring as she remembered the memory.

And then I was hit by that uncanny realisation again. "You're a fairy aren't you Ms Black?"

For a moment she looked blankly at me, then I saw something flit across her face. This disappeared almost immediately. "What are you talking about Snape?" She went back to her parchment.

"At first, I thought I was mistaken, but then... I realised, that I was not. From the very first moment I saw you, a deep part of me started being suspicious. And then, over the past few weeks, there have been signs."

"Such as?" her voice was low. She had stopped writing, but still wasn't looking at me.

"Such as?" I sneered. "Why your size, your preciseness at Potions, your secretiveness when telling me about your parents, the impression I got when I briefly entered your mind... and then lastly, just after you had kissed me and just after you were splinched and I was carrying you towards Florean's..."

She was silent.

And then: "Don't be ridiculous, Snape. Fairies are extremely tiny, non-intelligent and non-human creatures with wings. How on earth could I be one?

"You know, as well as I do, that those tiny creatures that are known as fairies are not really so. More precisely, they are wrongly termed thus. A real fairy is not much different than a human... of course, significantly smaller. They have the same level of intelligence as normal human beings - and in some cases are more magically powerful. I thought that the fairy race was extinct but I must have been mistaken."

Once again, she was quiet, and so I continued. "Fairies are said to be exceptionally beautiful. They have the ability to remain well hidden, thus I am not surprised that many thought them extinct. And to top it all off, they seem to be sensual, love-prone creatures."

She finally looked at me. "I'm not one," she said stiffly.

I opened my mouth to argue back and then realised she was telling the truth. "But of course... your mother..."

She nodded. "My mother was French. She married my father, from the Black family. He was the brother of Sirius' father, but was disowned after marrying someone not Black-family-approved. My father always maintained to his family that my mother was a Muggle... they could just about tolerate this enough to let him live his own life without bothering him. If he had told them that she was a... a..." her voice trembled, "... who knows what they would have done?"

"I see." My voice was gentle. "And... why have you told me this now?"

I could see her looking at me. And then she laughed softly. "Because I know you can't betray me Snape."

I hung my head. It was true.

"That really makes you feel helpless doesn't it?" she asked bitterly.

"What does?" I said, raising my head.

"That you don't have complete control of your life? That another person - namely me - has some control over you? That after the thunderbolt, our lives are tied together, and that you can't do anything about it?"

"And what about mademoiselle?" I sneered. "Does she not feel similar to what I do?"

She sighed. "I do Snape. I do. And the only reason is because I know that it's _you_ who I shared the thunderbolt with."

"And what exactly is that supposed to imply?"

"Don't you understand? You're the last person I would want to be my soul mate. We're totally different, we have different morals, we share nothing in common... and I ended up having to share the thunderbolt with you. And I know, that there really is nothing I can do about it. I know I can't just walk away from you, or do anything to hurt you because it'll end up causing me pain. I know that I can't see you with another woman, but _I_ don't want to be with you..." Tears had slid down her cheeks, her large brown eyes were filled with pain. I could feel that pain.

"Here," I said gruffly, striding forward and handing her a clean handkerchief. As I did so, I touched her hand. It was as warm as usual. This time however, I felt a slight thrill at touching a part of her. A shiver went up my spine. I quickly retreated.

She wiped her face, and calmed down. "What about you? Tell me about _your_ family? How was _your _Christmas?"

I paused a moment. "My Christmas was... fine."

She must have heard the strain in my voice because she smiled. "You were alone weren't you?"

"And you find that amusing?" I asked bitterly.

"Of course not. I find that pathetic. It's your own fault. The 'friends are no good' philosophy."

I remained silent.

"Your family?"

"What exactly do you want to know?" I asked irritated.

"I want to know the reason why you've never loved Snape."

"Well you're going to have to wait for that, Ms Black. I don't share my personal business with anyone," I replied heatedly.

"Oh really?" she asked, smiling sweetly.

"Yes!" I snapped, angry.

And before I knew it, she was sifting through my memories, as if she had free reign there. Memories that _I_ had deeply buried - and for good reason. No wonder... the little minx had purposely made me angry and ill-prepared so she could get to my inner-most thoughts... it took me a few seconds to compose myself and block her. A few seconds too late.

"You said you weren't a Legilimens!" I gasped.

"I lied," she said. She was looking at me strangely, with a mixture of pity and compassion.

_"I don't need your pity!" _I ground out through clenched teeth. "You think you know me Ms Black. Leave that misconception... you do not. And just because you are my soul mate - how unfortunate for me - it does _not_ give you the right to leaf through my thoughts and memories as if I were a book!"

She regarded me curiously. Shaking her head - as if there were no hope for me - then she resumed writing on the piece of parchment.

And then before I could stop myself, I said: "Why did you kiss me?"

She looked up, her small face tear-stained - from moments ago when I had offered her my handkerchief - and then sniffed: "Really surprised you, huh?"

"Surprised?" I asked wryly. "Try outraged."

She nodded thoughtfully. "Just why _were_ you so angry?"

I shrugged, embarrassed, and then said with scorn: "You're a horrible kisser."

She snorted. "As if you have so many others to compare with me!"

I remained silent.

"You haven't, had you?" she asked nervously, looking at her hands.

"Wouldn't you like to know, Ms Black," I said wickedly. "As such, a similar claim cannot be made about you."

She flushed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh really? The amount of times I came upon you and a variety of boys, engaged in-"

She interrupted me. "Just why _did _you find us so many times? Were you following me?" I could hear the suspicion in her voice.

"Oh please," I snorted in disbelief. "As if I had nothing better to do than to follow some hormonal teenagers around. No."

"Then why?"

I sighed, giving up. "As much as it may surprise you, I wasn't particularly fond of my fellow pupils, even my Slytherin house mates. I found that they were too arrogant for their own goods. To have arrogance without just cause is worthy of utter contempt. Anyhow, we didn't get along too well. So I did my studying outside... not in the Slytherin Common Room. As luck would have it, I was often an unwanted witness in some truly eyebrow-raising teenage affection."

"Oh come on Snape. Teenagers are that way. Surely you must have-"

She looked at me, her head turned to one side. "Perhaps not," she muttered.

"Oh please," I smirked arrogantly, "don't consider me too much of a virgin."

She frowned. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

I pretended to consider. "You know, Ms Black, I don't really see why I should tell you something that I don't want to. After all, it's a private subject and I don't want to disclose my personal affairs."

She grimaced as she recognised - more or less - her own earlier words. She resumed her previous work.

I looked at her writing on the parchment, and suddenly an unfamiliar feeling swept through me. I swallowed nervously.

"Ms- Ms Black, my handkerchief?"

She looked up, took a moment to register what I had saying and then said: "Oh... of course. It's a bit wet..."

I shook my head. "I can dry it."

She came to me, with the cloth held in her hand. I reached out to take it from her, but just as I did so, I felt a stirring in my navel. Without thinking about what I was doing, I stepped forward, reached for the handkerchief, and in the same moment and movement, pulled her toward me, enveloping her in my arms.

"Let us see which of us is the better kisser, shall we Ms Black?" I muttered hurriedly and before I could stop myself, I had brought my lips on to hers. What to say?

It was like nothing I had ever experienced before.

To hold Pétale, to have her little body ensconced in my own, to have her safely in my arms, produced a sensation that was truly singular and remarkable. This was how it felt to be with the one that you loved, I thought to myself.

I truly felt content. To have that woman in the world, who was meant for me, in my arms, safely protected was a feeling beyond description. I could smell her sweet jasmine smell again, and I drew her closer to me, hardly aware of what I was doing or _whom_ I was doing it to.

And then came the physical sensation. The stirring, unfamiliar feeling intensified sharply, and I inhaled in pleasure. I could feel her lips - soft and yielding against my own. I could feel her feminity against my body. I loved the heat from her. And I wanted more. So much more, knowing simultaneously that it was impossible.

And then I pulled apart, somehow exhausted. I could hear her panting, and I realised that I was breathing heavily too. Without thinking, I put my forehead against hers, my eyes closed, breathing deeply. I still held her loosely in my arms.I didn't want to let her go.


	9. 9

Disclaimer: The author of this fanfiction is in no way connected with or endorsed by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, Bloomsbury Publishing or Warner Bros and does not wish to make any sort of profit from this fanfiction. Ownership to characters in the Harry Potter books is neither claimed nor implied. All original content and material belongs to the author of this fanfiction and so therefore any reproduction of this text without the author's consent is prohibited.

Chapter 9

"I should have thought about Pétale before carelessly carrying out my desires. But I didn't force her... at all. I knew, somehow, inexplicably, that she had wanted it to happen as much as I did. I knew that there was no way she could have thought may holding her in my arms, the deep kiss we had shared as anything but the beautiful things that they really were. And I knew, from the connection we had that she _had_ thought them beautiful, that she had _not_ wanted them to end, that she _had_ wanted more to happen.

For a few moments we stood in each other's arms, breathing heavily, our foreheads touching. I could feel her small, hot hand on my arm; the contact sent shivers through me.

A line had been crossed. For all my reassurances that the thunderbolt meant nothing, I had been lying. And it was the same for her as well. There was no way an intense experience like that could mean nothing. From the moment that I had realised who she was, her importance in my life, and that she would always play a part in that life... an intense and deep longing had arisen in me. What I had said was true... I wasn't as... 'innocent'... as she made me out to be, but I had never had such a deep, real connection with a woman before. And it had made me yearn for a relationship - a long-lasting, strong, true relationship - that I had never experienced before. Alas, Headmaster, fate is not without a sense of cruelty.

A few moments of silence, and then she spoke. "Snape... Severus..." she said my name for the first time. "I... I... can't..." Her moist breath washed over my face.

I didn't let her go. Didn't want to. "Why not?" I whispered, my eyes clothed, my breathing much calmer.

I could feel her squirm. Finally, I opened my eyes, and looked at her. There were red patches on her cheeks, and her whole face was flushed and moist. A few strands of her hair clung to her forehead.

"I... I'm..." she hesitated, then decided it was better to just say what was on her mind. "I'm engaged, Severus."

I didn't register. "I'm sorry?"

"I am. I'm going to be married soon."

The revelation was so stunning, so huge and immense that I couldn't say anything for a few moments. I simply looked at her, and realised that she _was_ telling the truth, and that I would _have_ to accept the monstrosity of it. _But... why? _an intimate part of my mind thought. My heart was pounding in my ears as I looked at her.

"When... how... who?" I croaked.

She bit her lower lip. It was reddened. "We went to Hogwarts together," she wasn't looking at me. "His name is Remus."

I groaned, experiencing a sinking sensation in my stomach. "Lupin?"

She nodded, looking anywhere but me.

_You're in love with her aren't you Sevy boy? _That same intimate part of me whispered in a harsh voice. _You never thought you would ever feel this way... never with this woman especially, but you've fallen in love with her... just like that... no reason... you fool. _I clenched my fists and teeth together, trying to block out the voice. But it wouldn't stop. _And you think you would ever have a chance with the likes of _her? _You! You, Severus Snape - cold, aloof, unfriendly, unlovable - you think you could ever make the pure soul in front of you, fall for you?_

Another feebler voice answered: _But... I know she wanted that kiss..._

_Oh please, boy, don't be ridiculous. Do you think a woman like that could ever love a man like you? You've shared the thunderbolt... so what? Doesn't change anything... you should know that... She's getting _married _to a werewolf... _

I hung my head in shame. It was all true! Oh Lord... it was all true. And it stung.

There were so many things I wanted to say. How Lupin was a worthless coward who didn't even fulfill his Prefect duties, how he was a werewolf, how he couldn't be trusted... but my mouth was suddenly dry, and I couldn't form the words.

"When... when are you going to..."

"Two months."

"Two months..." I echoed in disbelief. _Two months, Sevy... and then she'll be out of your reach for ever... not that she was ever _in_ your reach! What do _you _know about women? Or love? You really think she'd ever marry _you?

I blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the haze that was blinding me. There was a fierce internal battle raging within me, but all I could say was: "And... and you love this man?"

She flushed, hesitated and then looked straight at me. The answer to that question was written all over her face. I could see glistening moisture on her eyelashes - which cast shadows on her cheeks.

The feebler voice within me grew in strength and confidence. _You see...? She doesn't love him...! How can she? I'm her soul mate... Maybe she loved him once... but not after we shared the thunderbolt..._

But its opponent was firm and persistent as ever. _Doesn't matter, Sevy boy... doesn't change a thing, does it? She's still engaged to him. Still planning to marry him. Now if she really loved you, why on earth would she marry another man?_

_But maybe... if we had one chance, maybe it could work-_

_Now, now, Sevy... don't get your hopes up. You haven't realised how different you are from this woman? How nearly everything you do, or think, or believe is at odds with her?_

_Doesn't matter... love conquers all..._

_You silly, pathetic fool. Maybe in fairy tales, Snape... not in the real world._

Again, it was true. And again it hurt. I gripped the edge of a table to keep myself standing. How could this be happening? How could I see my whole life stretching before me... empty without her? A barren wasteland.

"And you believe you will be happy with him?" Why was I asking her this? Why wasn't I down on my feet begging her to stay with me?

She nodded again. But I knew that she was lying. There was no way she could possibly be happy with Lupin when she didn't belong to him. Her whole soul, her whole being was mine, and she knew that as well as I did.

_You see, you see! She won't be happy with him; she's mine; she'll only ever be happy with me, and she knows it, as well as you._

_Don't make me laugh, Sevy boy. I don't think you quite understand... if she _wanted_ to stay with you... she would. But, she isn't. I think that sort of hints that she can't stand the sight of you._

_But I know... if I ask her to stay, she will._

_Oh really? _I could hear the disbelief and scorn in the pain-rending voice. _Are you so sure? Do you really think so?_

_Of course... _But I could detect a hint of hesitation.

_I think you're grasping at straws, Sevy. I think you know it isn't going to happen._

"You've still decided to go through with it after all that has happened Pétale?" It was unconscious. But that was the first time I said _her_ name. Such a beautiful name if one thought about it. It meant 'petal' and she was... sweet-smelling, fragile, lovely... I could see her lips trembling. I placed a gentle finger on them, tracing their soft, feminine outline. Oh how soft! _Say no, Pétale... say no. _

She looked at me. I could see the pain in her large, brown eyes. She was torn in two, I could see. "I... I... yes..." she whispered, closing her eyes in her agony, large tears sliding down her face.

_And there you go Sevy boy. Clear as crystal. There's your answer. There's your love... tossed back at your heart like knives, shredding it to pieces. Still keen on love, eh?_

But how could she? Why would she want to? What on earth could persuade her to do something that was so wrong?

"But why?" I managed to whisper. And then a third voice spoke up in my brain; a strong resilient one that silenced the two others. _Severus, you know the answer to that don't you?_

And I did. She was marrying Lupin because she had foreseen - rather accurately I suppose - that she didn't have a future with me. I wasn't a ... "family man" as the saying go. Love is all well and good, but it doesn't put the proverbial bread on the table. _But she could have given you a chance, Sevy; you could have changed... _I could hear the harsh voice again.

And then the strong voice spoke. _Of course, Severus, you could have changed... but are you going to sacrifice her wellbeing, her safety... because of a possibility?_

_But it's Lupin, Sevy boy... Lupin... the werewolf..._

I had never liked the man at Hogwarts. The number of times he had turned a blind eye when his friends where attacking me was monumental. And he was a werewolf.

_Severus... Severus, it will hurt, Severus. But you know what the right thing to do is._

"It is better if you go now Pétale. I couldn't... couldn't... bear to see you... after this..." I whispered gruffly, my throat feeling as though someone had scraped it with dragon skin. Hot, blinding tears of pain slid down my face as I thought of the emptiness I was suffering and would suffer.

She nodded, the tears also pouring down her face.

And finally, I snapped. I sprang forward, and pulled her to me again, and buried my head in her hair, and inhaled deeply. Yes! For so long I had wanted this. I could feel her small frame wracked in deep sobs. And I held her. For the last time in my life I held her.

"Oh Snape..." she murmured, her small face buried in my shoulder.

The harsh voice spoke up again: _Really want to let go of her Sevy? Can't you imagine the life you'll live without her? Don't you know you're nothing without her? And she's nothing without you? Why Sevy? Why deny yourself what you both want?_

_Be silence! Be gone! Let it be!_ The strong voice commanded, and I heard no more.

And I murmured in her ear: "Why Ms Black, why do you cry so?" The truth of the matter was that I knew why she was crying. I knew - I _know_ - how it felt for your heart to be breaking, bit by bit. "You are a truly vibrant person Pétale," I said, the pain obvious in my voice. "I would never have thought that I would experience something that was so wonderful with you. But I'm glad I did. I know I'll never meet another like you, I don't want to either... and I know I'll be miserable without you, but... I know you'll be happy with Lupin... and after a while, you'll forget me..."

"You think?" she said, her disbelief all too clear even though her voice was muffled.

I wiped a hand over my eyes. "I wish for you to walk through that door and not come back. Once inside the circular room, drink some of the Invisibility Potion in your locket and go from here. And don't worry, the bottles have a Replenishing Charm on them... they'll refill from my personal stock when they're empty. Now go."

I clutched her tightly, briefly pressed my lips against her tender mouth and turned from her, releasing her.  
She said briefly: "I'll never forget you Severus Snape."

And with that she was gone.

For a few moments I stood there, blinded by the tears that fell onto my cheeks. And then... it finally struck. It finally came and slapped me, like Pétale had slapped me once before. The revelation that I would probably never see her again. That when I did, she would be Lupin's wife, and that I could never hold her in the same way as I had just done. And with that revelation, such a strong wave of heartache, of impending desolation and loneliness swept over me, that I fell to my knees.

What was life without my other half?

It was like trying to go through life with half a body, with half a soul. It couldn't be done.

And I saw my whole life stretching before me... one whole life of barren desolation.

I have never seen her since.

o.o.o

"My story comes to a quick end. I fell into misery and despair. I was suffering from a broken heart; depression and saw nothing left but darkness ahead of me.

I jumped willingly when Lucius Malfoy paid a visit and told me about the Death Eaters of the Dark Lord. In my grief, in my pain, the way he described his fellow... _companions_ seemed to me to be a wonderful thing. He called it a 'brotherhood of freedom fighters,' resisting the corrupted wizard government from their impurity and whatnot.

I had no will left to refuse, and the pain I was feeling was nearly driving me insane. I accepted his offer.

The next few months of my life, I have no wish to share with anyone. Their recollection would drive me to end my life. But you know well what happened on the night of the prophecy. After that, you know everything. So twenty years I have lived... not too much, and yet I have experienced too much to be called young. Darkness, defeat, heartache and heartbreak, deceit, murder... The result, Headmaster, sits before you now."

Snape stopped talking; his voice portraying the anguish he had been feeling. There was a deep and profound silence. Dumbledore wiped his eyes. He spoke, and his voice betrayed the sadness he felt: "Thank you Severus. Thank you for sharing this most sacred tale. But come... it is late. We shall go."

With that the two men stood up, and moved outside the room, the fire long since dimmed.

If one were to see them from the distance, one would see a tall, thin, old man, his head lowered in thought, and another slightly shorter man, considerably younger. The latter was walking as if he had had to carry the weight of the entire world on his shoulders. Both projected an air of subdued sadness. Both would, in a few years, play a considerable part in the fate of the wizarding world.

o.o.o

Severus Snape woke up. The recollection of these memories had stirred that same, old pain within him. He stirred, and stretching his arms, looked at the huge cauldron in front of him.

With a start he sat up, as he saw the sight that greeted him.


	10. 10

Disclaimer: The author of this fanfiction is in no way connected with or endorsed by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, Bloomsbury Publishing or Warner Bros and does not wish to make any sort of profit from this fanfiction. Ownership to characters in the Harry Potter books is neither claimed nor implied. All original content and material belongs to the author of this fanfiction and so therefore any reproduction of this text without the author's consent is prohibited.

Chapter 10

The crux of the problem, from the very start, had been trying to find a substance powerful enough to unite all the other ingredients and make them react. Without it, the potion wouldn't really be a potion, just a brew with some rather strange components, which Snape wouldn't drink even if he was given all the gold in Gringotts.

He had found the solution sometime in his fifth year at Hogwarts as Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House. Experimentation, trial and error... they had all lead to Snape discovering that one critical substance. In theory, there were a few substances that could be used, but as mentioned before in this account, most of them were of heinous natures. The ones that were not, were either not currently in existence, or _were_ in existence but with unknown locations.

So what was it? What was this one key component that could effectively make him the most powerful man alive? Why... it was the soul.

The human soul is such a powerful object that one can hardly imagine. It is one of the most beautiful and - at the same time - most terrible things one can imagine. It has the potential to do truly great things: amazing or terrible, maybe... but thunderously great.

So how to harness the soul? Another few years' research and experimentation followed... to no avail. It could of course be done by killing someone and capturing their soul. Or creating a horcrux.

But neither of these were really feasible options. That's when Snape went to Dumbledore. And Dumbledore - unsurprisingly, of course - had just the solution. The potion was perfected in Harry Potter's first year at Hogwarts. With its completion, Severus Snape retained his crown at Potions, while Albus Dumbledore rightly earned the title of the greatest wizard alive. Snape had discovered the potion; Dumbledore had made it possible.

So just how _was_ the soul harnessed? What must be recognised is that only the soul of the person who is to be resurrected can be used. What must also be recognised is that the soul is an incredibly powerful substance; thus, not all of the soul is required. A minute amount in fact. That was the genius of the potion. Unlike Voldemort's horcruxes, this potion would do no damage to the original soul. Snape had thought that even when a person died, their soul had a connection with their body... no matter how weak. The brilliant man had theorised that he could use the potion - with the small fragment of the dead person's soul - to call upon this connection, and bring the soul back into the body. Of course, this meant that the crucial fragment of soul had to be collected _before_ the person's death.

The reason why only Dumbledore could use this potion was that he was the only one who knew who to capture a small, minute fragment of his soul - the brilliant white liquid that Snape had thrown into the cauldron just a few hours ago - without causing any damage to it. Others could try by making horcruxes, but they would cause irreparable damage to their souls by ripping fragments from it by the horrendous act of killing... and then... who knew what would come back from the other side?

But Dumbledore had discovered a way. Two ways in fact. One was a very complex spell that only the old wizard knew. Involving nobody knew what. Dumbledore had not told Snape about that part - saying only that if Snape knew the knowledge to successfully - without damaging the original - remove a fragment of the soul, he would be in constant danger from Dark Wizards trying to conquer death. What Snape had deduced by himself was that the spell was obviously one of the ancient magics, involving power beyond imagination. The sort of power Dumbledore possessed. The sort of power that could separate a fragment of soul from a person without causing any damage to the original soul.

The other way was, of course, Fawkes. Many suspected simply that Fawkes was Dumbledore's pet phoenix. How wrong the poor fools were. Snape had made the startling discovery one evening in his third year as a teacher at Hogwarts. He had looked at Fawkes, staring benignly at him, had looked at the Headmaster also regarding him with exactly the same expression, had put two and two together and had received a reassuring nod from Dumbledore confirming his theory. Fawkes wasn't Dumbledore's pet... well at least, he was much, much more than that. He contained a part of Dumbledore's soul. How Dumbledore had managed it was really beyond Snape. He had only ever really seen one other example of a similar case and that was Nagini, the Dark Lord's serpent.

The other ingredients, it has been mentioned, were not particularly hard to conceive. Many people knew that the tears of one phoenix were extraordinarily singular in that they had amazing healing abilities; very few individuals knew that the tears of twelve phoenixes - an ancient magical number - were one hundred and forty four times more potent. They could act in the same way that Unicorn Blood acted - albeit without the associated curse, and that was a good thing.

Felix Felicis was also required, in rather large amounts. Because really, resurrection also involved one fair-sized portion of fortune and good luck.

And finally, among other - less significant - ingredients, the soul. To ensure that Dumbledore came back sound and whole, Snape had used both Fawkes and the fragment of Dumbledore's soul that the Headmaster had separated years earlier and left in Snape's custody.

For the truth of the matter was, the real reason why Snape was bringing back the legendary Albus Dumbledore was because it was a necessity. Those fools who accepted Dumbledore as dead also accepted their own defeat. It was true that Potter would play an immense part in Voldemort's demise. But there was no way - absolutely _no_ way at all - that a teenager and his two friends could destroy horcruxes created by one of the darkest wizards alive. Just no way. With Dumbledore gone, no one could stop Voldemort. No one at all. There was no hope without the Headmaster. Absolutely none at all. It wasn't exaggeration; it was all true. Without Dumbledore, nothing anybody did would make any difference. Voldemort would win the war easier than he could kill an unarmed Squib.

So why had Snape killed him? Because he had to. The Unbreakable Vow.

Of course, he would have died himself, or blown his cover, rather than kill Dumbledore if he didn't have a way to bring him back. He was Dumbledore's agent... would never betray the man who had given him a second chance. And if he ever saw Potter again, he'd make sure (after giving him all the help he could to destroy Voldemort) that the little brat knew that Severus Snape was Dumbledore's man... through and through.

o.o.o

So what was the sight that had so startled Snape?

"Ah, Severus... how absolutely charming to see you again," Dumbledore apparated from within the cauldron - only his head visible, giving the rather comical impression of a head floating around - to outside it.

Snape stood up and bowed stiffly. "Headmaster."

The great man stepped forward, placing his hand on Snape's shoulder. "Albus from now on Severus. I positively insist it. You have more than enough earned that right over the years."

Snape looked up. "It worked."

Dumbledore nodded, flicking his wand. His robes changed into a deep red. "It did. As you know it would."

Snape remained silent.

"And now I think, Severus, a visit to an old friend is a necessary prerequisite before I can start reassuring everyone that I am back."

"Of course."

Dumbledore paused. "Tell me Severus, I am sure you remember that night you told me... about..."

Snape nodded, clearly knowing what Dumbledore was meaning.

"I told you I pitied your past. I was wrong."

Snape looked up in surprise.

"The fact is Severus, that I do _not_ pity you _or_ your past. For the latter has moulded the former. '_I am a part of all that I have met_,'" Dumbledore smiled as he quoted Tennyson, "'_and yet... all experience is an arch where through gleams that untravelled world... whose margins fade forever and forever when I move..._' so true. Everything you have ever experienced has moulded you into what you are today, Severus... and I wouldn't want that changed for the world. Seldom have I ever met a more loyal and truer friend. You have truly showed me today what love is all about."

Snape remained silent, deeply moved by Dumbledore's simple yet sincere and well meant praise.

"And now Severus, I must be away. I shall see you, in approximately one hour, at Headquarters."

Snape nodded.

"Farewell then, my friend."

o.o.o

Snape had vanquished the cauldron, the chairs and all the equipment and ingredients he had used. There was nothing now in the great hall apart from him - a dark figure standing in the single ray of sunshine that entered through an open window.

And as usual, when he was alone, when he wasn't busy and thinking about other things, his mind turned inevitably and unavoidably towards that one person who he still held in his heart.

As chance would have it, he _had _seen her again. That however, is a tale for another day.

Suffice it to say, whether she was married or not, Pétale Black would always be Severus Snape's, and he would be forever her's. After all, it is extremely seldom - as our protagonist has already told us - that two people experience a thunderbolt... or for that matter a Perfect Moment.

FIN


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